JOY INTERRUPTED

For the past few years, our family has been dealing with a circumstance that’s difficult and painful. It wasn’t present all the time, but it was this thing that came and went, seemingly always lurking around the corner threatening to expose itself at just such a time that we think it’s been conquered and destroyed. We’ve done our time, paid our dues; jumped through all the hoops you think you have to in order to “deserve” freedom from it. Prayed more, far more than I think I’ve personally every prayed for anything before.

This year has been different. So different, in fact, that in the recent weeks we have been celebrating. We have been sincerely praising God for the healing that has taken place, and that we have felt remarkable freedom from the pain. Beyond grateful. Joyful. Emotionally and verbally proclaiming to all that have walked with us our thankfulness. It was like the sky had cleared, and to Him be the glory.

Getting right to the point, it’s back, and I feel angry and cheated. It’s like we’re in this story that we know is going to be an amazing testimony someday, but it’s not yet and we have to wait and we don’t want to be in the story anymore. And just when we think we’re on the other side, we find ourselves being swept right. back. in.

I’m suddenly realizing that I never did truly let go of the fear. And that we have an adversary that comes to steal and destroy and I’m letting him, every time I give power to the lie by believing it.

As I often do when I’m struggling, I set upon my walk today with a determination to believe the things I think I know about Jesus, wondering if I’m supposed to keep singing His praises through the doubt and pain even though I know the answer to that, but I’m pissed. It’s like when you’re in an argument with someone and at some point in the middle of it you realize they’re right but you just can’t say it. Yet. Then through my little earbuds I hear these lyrics, so huge and timely and profound:

When I feel the cold of winter
In this cloak of sadness, I need You
Oh the evil things that shake me
All the words that break me I need You

Over the mountains, over the sea
Here You come running, my Lover to me

This picture. He comes running. In our pain and grief and questioning nothing will stand in His way to get to us, even (or especially) when joy feels unattainable. We have to try and remember back to the times when we felt that way before, and then the skies cleared and the darkness passed and we remembered God’s goodness and mercy and grace is always there even when we don’t feel it. It’s not a disappearance of joy, but because of our humanness we can’t see that it’s merely interrupted. That the story is still being written so we HAVE to stay in it or we won’t get to the best part. Because perseverance. And HOPE.

 So Jesus digs through all my crap and expectations and speaks to me through this amazing song as He always does. A book in the Bible that’s a love story between a man and a woman but also a beautiful picture of God’s love for us, His people, His church. His relentless pursuit of our hearts. He understands my doubts. He forgives my obstinance and sass. He grieves with me. And soon He will celebrate with me. Joy.

Here’s the rest of the song. I recommend singing it, in all the times.

Do not hide me from Your presence
Pull me from these shadows, I need You
Beauty wrap Your arms around me
Sing Your song of courage, I need You

Over the mountains, over the sea
Here You come running, my Lover to me
Oh, through the valleys, through the dark of night
Here You come running, to hold me till it's light

Song of Solomon, Jesus Culture

Today or Tomorrow

I’d love to start this post by updating you on what I’ve been doing since I retired from my job at the church. Catching up on the piles of magazines that I haven’t had time to look at for months, floating in the pool or at least sitting by the pool, cocktail in hand (only at the appropriate hour of course, which is 3 o’clock when you retire, right?), completing projects around the house, and reading at least a couple of books.

I’d LOVE to say all those things, but in reality, per usual, I had set unrealistic expectations as to where I would be right now, a month in.

Week 1 –a fun holiday week, full of summertime activities, overeating, etc. So far, so good. Week 2 – volunteered at VBS (RH version = The Best Week Ever). Super fun but oh-so-exhausting. Midway through Week 2 started having some belly issues, and ended up spending all day in the ER on Sunday. ER visit – stat bloodwork – CT scan; to find out I had an acute attack of diverticulitis. Week 3 – lying around, unable to do anything but catch up on those piles of magazines and read a couple of books but not by choice but because I couldn’t do anything else. I don’t remember when I’ve felt so crappy. Physically and emotionally.

Week 4 – finally starting to feel better, but I still have some residual pain and it’s freaking me out. Because did I forget to mention that when I got really sick it was 2 weeks after I traded my excellent health insurance for an outrageously expensive policy with a HUGE deductible? Oh, yeah and I also gave up my salary…!

So. Last week I spent a lot of time lamenting, second-guessing my decision, wondering why I felt like it was a good idea to leave my job and insurance before I can qualify for old-people’s insurance (I must have thought I was too young to get old-people diseases), wondering how in the world we are going to pay for all of this.

You see (especially if you’ve read any or all of my previous posts), once again, I had felt entitled. To what I’m not exactly sure, but clearly getting sick and racking up ginormous medical bills wasn’t in the plan. I felt entitled to what I thought everyone gets in retirement: a life of rest and fun and exercise and being super retired and NOT sick. At least for a while anyway.

The other day God used this to “help” me remember the things I always forget. It’s from the book of James, chapter 4:

Look here, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we are going to a certain town and will stay there a year. We will do business there and make a profit.” How do you know what your life will be like tomorrow? Your life is like the morning fog—it’s here a little while, then it’s gone.

Wow, kind of harsh, right? But isn’t it so true?

A few years back, my friend and former pastor, Todd, asked me to share at church on this passage. It was after my family had gone through years of incredibly challenging personal trials, and just when we thought we had conquered it, and it was all behind us, I found out I had cancer. And then right after my diagnosis we learned that my unborn granddaughter had a chance of having Down syndrome and we wouldn’t know until she was born.

People. I didn’t just think I was entitled to something good after all that suffering, I thought we had earned it. This can’t be possible. No more pain or worry or stress or grief, thank you, we paid at the door. Only goodness and light from now on, K?

But even though I was remarkably misguided, something good did come out of it. A lot of good. Not just the granddaughter that was born perfectly healthy and myself being cured from cancer, but everything that happened in the midst of it. I truly wouldn’t change any of it.

Do you do what I do? Run so fast down the road of your personal expectations and are super surprised and pissed when you hit an obstacle and your vision and plans for the future are interrupted? I’ll share with you what I’m learning; that we’re not entitled, really to anything, and that we don’t know, good or bad, what will happen tomorrow. I’m choosing to look forward to the future with positivity, but a healthy dose of realism (aka loosening the death-grip of control of my plans), and not putting too much in ink.

Unsung Heroes

Today was/is my official first day of retirement. Just in case you were wondering, the anxiety that you have on your days off to get things done before you go back to work doesn’t magically go away on the first day. As I walked by the pile of stuff I brought home from my office for the 37th time, I had a thought: should I clean that up? Or empty the dishwasher or organize my home office or paint my living room or tackle EVERY DANG PROJECT I’VE DREAMED OF DOING FOR THE LAST 5 YEARS??!! Okay that was 5 thoughts. But honestly the constant struggle I’m in of the urgency of everything and running down the road before I’m supposed to. So typical. I can’t stop, people. But hopefully I can.

So…the answer ended up being None of the Above. I decided to go for a walk. And then write a blog post. I didn’t even make my bed first. I kind of feel like I’m mentally giving responsibility the finger. Kind of putting an exclamation point on the mug in the photo.

This writing however is not about me and my issues (as most of them are). Overthinking what retirement should look like is a post for another day. This is an attempt to sing a song to and about the people that I have worked with at ROCKHARBOR, which is difficult. Some of them were there when I started 17 years ago, and some of them I’ve only known for a few months, and everything in between.

Please don’t check out though if you think you can’t relate, because it applies to the people you work with also. It’s about those unsung heroes that are diligently working behind the scenes, often going unnoticed because they are humble and gracious and they’re not doing what they’re doing for the recognition. They’re doing it because they’re called to it and they are content with being unseen because they [should] know they are filling a position that is just as necessary and essential as the people at the top. In my personal experience, even the ones that have up front roles do so much more that none of us ever gets to see or know.

But to all of them, it doesn’t matter. Because what does matter is that they’re helping someone, or contributing to something that is bigger than them.

On my last day I shared with the staff that the only regrets I remember having over the years was that I didn’t climb the ladder. They weren’t constant regrets, just little pangs every now and again when I saw other people get promoted; it seemed I was the only one that stayed in the same position, THE WHOLE TIME. But I truly believed, and still do, that God designed me uniquely for my position. I learned to be content in that, but it wasn't always easy.

The point is, whether or not you believe in God, I think that we are each called to something unique. For some there will be more notoriety than others and that’s okay too. I have friends that are teachers, worship leaders, public speakers, and writers and they have amazing things to share that we all need to hear. What they all have in common is that they live their lives and their roles with their hands and hearts open, expectations released, un-entitled, submitted to the move of God. Pride and clinging to things that never truly belonged to us have no place and no benefit, and these people recognize that. So they let go and continue to literally do the Lord’s work with humility, quietness and grace.

I am a better person for having worked with these people, and I am inspired by every single one of them. As should you be, at your church, your workplace, the grocery store, or every place you go forever. Pay attention. Make sure the ones that think they’re invisible are seen. Affirm them in their gifts, whatever they are. Encourage them to be who God made them to be, their true selves, keep seeking their calling, going above and beyond, stepping outside their perceived titles and doing more. If you do this, they will.

That’s all for now, although I know I will think of more because they are that awesome. And I’ll keep you posted on my projects, but for now I’m just going to start sending more emojis in my text messages. Because I have time.

The Sufficiency of Grace

I’d like to start by saying that I’m an idiot.

I’ve already written about the fact that I’m a runner. Not in an athletic sort of way, but in a when things get tough I want to run sort of way. And for some reason I use my workouts as a way to articulate my desperation and confusion. Which I’m fairly certain is the opposite of what God wants from me.

Also, I’m not fond of the word blessing because of how Christians tend to over-or-misuse it. But you’ll see it a bunch in this post, because I need it to make my point. I know, random. But this is me.

So a few days ago I started thinking about the people that are close to me that are suffering right now. People that are not asking for extravagant things, just things that lots and lots of other people have and probably take for granted. Things that come so easily for some, like jobs, or babies, or good health.

So I took to the Fairview Park stairs with my same dumb habits. The fierceness of my workout must make a difference. It’s like I’m trying to punish something or someone because of my frustration, so I take those 102 stairs, two at a time, the stairs like my faith-questioning-punching-bag, over and over until I’m breathless and crying. I’m punishing something all right…me. Nothing else. A feeble attempt.

Idiot, right? But maybe not completely, because in all that sweating and heart pounding and heart breaking, I had an epiphany. Or maybe just an epiphany to me, and for all of you it’s a no, duh.

Because some of us will ask and ask and ask for these things and God will eventually say yes and we call them blessings. But some will ask and ask and ask and that thing continues to be just outside of our reach. God says either no or not yet, and yet they see the blessing. They don’t miss what he has for us; the intimacy, the mercy, the grace when we sit with him, and trust. And wait.

I want that.

That faith, that’s not necessarily without question, but trust in his promises, no matter what they look like for us, today, in this moment. And that’s who I’m writing about today. Those that don’t miss the blessings he has for us when he says no…but sit in his presence and wait.

I don’t want to be the person that runs and runs in a ridiculous attempt to somehow take on the pain of the world, but to listen to him when he says: simply sit with me. See me. Hear me. Trust me. I see you, and I know.

My grace is sufficient for you.

Those who believe in his promises, no matter what they are, and sit and wait for the possibility of that baby or that job or that healing, and in the midst of the waiting they find sufficiency in God's mercy and grace. I want that.

Picking Cherries, FOMO, and other news.

So…I’m retiring from ROCKHARBOR. At the end of June, after 17+ years on staff, I’ll be an attender. A butt in a seat. I hope to be more than that, but I’m struggling with that, and the reasons why. I haven’t formally announced it because I’m not sure I want it to be true.

I hate it when people over spiritualize things, so in the spirit of full disclosure I don’t want to say that God is calling me to something else when truthfully I’m simply ready for a different rhythm in my life.

I have loved my time there for multiple reasons, which brings me to why I’m struggling with why I hope to be more than a butt in a seat. Even though I’ve been, for the most part, someone behind the scenes, there is a certain notoriety that comes with being on staff at a church like RH. I don’t want to want the notoriety. I want to continue to serve, but will I be okay with the fact that no one knows who I am? Truthfully, I’m not sure.

There is so, so much I will miss, but that’s a blog for another day. Today is about selective envy, or cherry-picking. Wiktionary defines it as: To pick out the best or most desirable items from a list or group, especially to obtain some advantage or to present something in the best possible light.

The other night Reggie and I were talking about a beautiful home we had seen, honestly we were coveting, and I remembered my friend Debbie talking about a game they would play when walking around Balboa Island looking at amazing homes on the water. I mean, who doesn’t want to live in one of those houses? The caveat though was that you could pick out a house, but you couldn’t change anything about it. You had to keep the location, furniture, style, everything. Have you seen the house with all the bears?? Location=AMAZING. Bears=WHAT IN THE…Frustrating, right? But isn’t that pretty true to life?

How much would change if you had to take everything, as is? If you apply that rule to that thing that you’re coveting, would you still want it? You can’t just have the house, you have to have the marriage, the family, the life, the bears, the relationships…everything.

So I’m realizing how guilty I am of cherry-picking and FOMO when I want my life to stay exactly the same, even after I leave staff. We had a ministry planning staff day away last week (sorry, ministry speak which most of you won’t get), and I didn’t really need to go since I won’t even be there and don’t need to write a ministry plan. But I had to go because it was my last one. Not because anyone was making me, but because I fear missing out on all the fun parts of being on staff at ROCKHARBOR.

I still want to be a part of the staff days, retreats, laughter, fun, camaraderie. I still want people to come sit in my office because they’re hurting, and they need prayer, or they want to tell me something funny, or they just want the multitude of candy that’s in my bottom drawer. I want people to know who I am. But I don’t want to have to be anywhere at a certain time, for a certain amount of time. I don’t want to get up to an alarm clock anymore, unless it’s because I’m spending the day with my kids and grandkids or walking at Crystal Cove with my friends.

If you’re anything like me, we don’t just want it both ways, we want it all the ways.

I have to be okay with not being a part of the fun and the laughter and 3rd Wednesday staff meetings where it’s the one and only time the staff gets to worship, all together, and it’s beautiful and intimate and now I’m crying. Because you only get to do that if you’re on staff. I can’t pick the best cherries, the most desirable items, only present myself in the best possible light. I have to choose, and I hate that part. And I’m terrified that I’m choosing wrong.

So…in life, faith, family, politics, jobs…are you, like me, inclined to pick only the best cherries out of the bowl? Or are you willing to take the good with the bears? If you got to choose that thing that you so desperately want, are you able to take everything that goes with it?

I think I’m about to find out. I’ll keep you posted.

Not Christian Enough

I spent the morning with my dad today. He’s the author of “growing old gracefully”. Not that he’s old, but he’s ninety so by some people’s standards he is. I took him to get his taxes done, and even though he was given some potentially-not-so-awesome news, I could tell that he could care less about what his accountant was saying because his girlfriend is in the hospital.

What his accountant was saying was significant. He cared a little, but my dad knows that the things that matter when you’re ninety are not bank accounts and taxes. What matters is your ninety-three-year-old love in the hospital and you’re stuck in an office talking about money that is inconsequential in this moment. All you want to do is leave and go make sure she’s okay. It spoke volumes to me. What matters when you’re ninety is love and companionship and another day that’s as good as or hopefully better than the last. And those are the things should matter to me, too.

I’ve been kind of mad at God lately. Actually I’ve been kind of really mad at God. The circumstances of people that are precious to me, the state of the world, the fact that politics has taken over Facebook so much that I flinch when I look at it. Actually that last part probably isn’t God’s fault since I don’t think Facebook was actually in his master plan for us. And truly maybe none of it is God’s fault.

So when I got home, I went for a walk in the park by my house. Sometimes I do the (102) (!) stairs a few times, and while I'm trying to catch my breath and my heart feels like it's going to explode out of my chest, I have to decide if I’m going right at the top of the stairs through the park, or left at the bottom up to the river trail. Today I chose the former and it was a good decision.

What I think is mustard plants are growing taller than me, where it used to be just parched and cracked soil. Trails upon trails upon trails with a wild eruption of vivid yellow mustard plants as “walls” framing both sides. It’s remarkable. I thought about the redemption of that dry soil, and my dad who is all I want to be and more at 90, and a dear friend’s baby who has been long prayed over and finally, miraculously, is going to be okay, and all of the other things, and tried to pray. I listen to Jesus Culture and Bethel and Circuit Riders, all of whom have a theology that I’m not totally sure about…but I do love their music and it tends to inspire me even when I’m feeling uninspired. And I try to believe what I’m listening to, and I do, but I’m still kind of angry for the things I can't change. And I try to figure out if that’s okay. To love Jesus but be completely confused about why he won’t just do what I want. Blah.

I got home and sat down to write out this rant, thinking no one will want to read it because it’s depressing and I’m “positivity” and all. And these lyrics poured out of my earbuds from a song called Still:

Don’t you know I calmed the raging sea?
Don’t you know I hold your heart?
Child, listen, slow down, slow down, slow down
I speak to you in miracles
I show love through My power                   
But sometimes just be still and know that “I Am”

Dang it. So here’s what I think I’m supposed to take from this. That taxes, and politics, and Facebook, and politics ON Facebook are not the things that matter to God. That he’s okay with my anger and my questions and even my forgetfulness of all the people and places where he has been faithful. Because he IS faithful, and miraculous, and cares about every little thing always and forever. Even when I’m mad.

The Big Oh-Five

Today is kind of a big day. It’s been five years since I had surgery to remove cancer from my body. In the world of breast cancer, it’s a REALLY big day. I’m not just cancer-free anymore. Five years cancer-free in the world of breast cancer means I’m CURED.

I haven’t blogged in a while; partly because I haven’t had time, but partly because I haven’t felt compelled to write anything you’d want to read. I kept starting to write and finding dead ends everywhere…realizing I was forcing it. Guess it was classic writer’s block and I’m not totally sure it’s gone. But this subject felt like a no-brainer. Kind of a first-day-back-to-school “How I Spent My Summer” essay, but what I’ve learned in the last five years as a legit cancer survivor. I could write volumes. For your sake I didn't, and you're welcome. Here’s the short list in no particular order:

1.       Finding out I had cancer was surprising. Not in the I can’t believe I have cancer kind of way (although that was definitely a part of it), but more of an I can’t believe I’m not freaking out kind of way.

2.       In the room where I sat by myself waiting to receive the news, God told me he would make me brave. And he did, but at the time I didn’t know that it wasn’t for me. He made me brave so I could help others be brave. What a gift.

3.       God uses circumstances like this to humble us. To help us understand that he wants the best for us, yes…but he also wants to use us to help others be strong and be their best. Through cancer, surgery and chemotherapy he humbled me. After surgery I had to rely on others to wait on me (anyone who knows me well will tell you I suck at this), and after chemo I had moments of complete humiliation, shame, as well as intense pain and fatigue. Not so good at that, either. Medication that causes weight gain, hot flashes, fatigue. And let’s not forget the fairly noticeable lack of hair.

4.       Humility gives us grace. Grace gives us empathy. Empathy gives us the ability to feel other people’s pain so real in your gut that it becomes YOUR pain. And that’s what surviving cancer should be about. It should be about sitting with others in their pain and dark places and not saying a word. It’s about realizing that we don’t really know how someone feels. EVER. That’s humility, and grace, and empathy. It’s understanding that we don’t understand.

5.       I have AMAZING people in my life. When I took a 3-month leave of absence from work, Kelly and Molly made me a “Joy Jar” full of daily affirmations, bible verses, and things to make me laugh. People brought me wonderful and healthy meals after chemo when I just didn’t have energy to cook. Endless, endless prayers. They held me up when I couldn’t. They texted and called and emailed. They just WERE. Somehow they knew that was exactly what I needed. I wish I could thank each one individually.

6.       I have more joy. I’m more grateful. I love more deeply. I'm more aware.

7.       In spite of all of the above, I feel guilty for being a survivor. I don’t know why God said “yes” to me, but “no” to others. I don’t know, and I hate it. I HATE IT. I don’t want anyone to die from cancer (well, to be honest I wouldn’t mind Charles Manson or rapists or child molesters). And I have no idea how to relate to those that have been given a more difficult prognosis than mine. I can empathize all day long with people that endure surgery and chemo and will get better, but then there are those that after all of the treatment and the hope and the praying…gah. I hate it. But I feel I would be disingenuous if I said I wasn’t thankful that I did survive, and I don’t think those with more serious prognoses would expect it.

In summary: I wouldn’t trade any of it. Not one moment of it, no matter how challenging, for what I’ve learned or how I’ve grown. How my heart has changed. The joy and comfort that I have found when God comes so near that I feel the warmth of his breath and his touch because that’s exactly what and all that I need. When I heard him say “I see you, and I know.” That whatever hardships we have to overcome, we can be brave. Lastly, how important it is to realize that sometimes, maybe, the courage that he gives is not only for us.

Who I've Decided To Vote For, and Why

I’ve written about some of the detriments of social media before, so you might ask yourself why I’m still on it. It’s because I like a lot of what I see on there. A lot of it is fun and funny and endearing, like pictures of your families and vacation and food. And if I’m friends with or following you, it’s because I LIKE you. Some of your opinions about things may not be in alignment with mine, but I still like you.

When it comes to this election, though, I don’t really see a lot of people singing the praises of their candidate on social media. Are you truly excited about and proud of who you’re voting for? If you are, well…congratulations. I don’t know many people who aren’t simply voting against the other person. I think if we’re all being honest we would have to say that both major party candidates have some pretty serious flaws. If you’re voting your conscience, chances are you’re voting for one of the others that likely won’t get elected.

No offense, but I don’t super care who you’re voting for. I see so much divisiveness in this election it’s starting to make me feel hopeless for our world, and I think social media has a direct correlation to the anger that is being felt for these candidates. I didn’t used to know that much about people’s passion and opinions, and I think I liked it better that way.

Aside from that, I must vote as though mine is the deciding vote. I must vote for someone who holds more of my values than the other candidate. I must vote for a party that is for more of the things I care about for my family and for our world. I must vote for someone that can actually win. I believe that if I vote for someone who only has 15% support, or write in Jimmy Fallon, or abstain it will accomplish nothing. No one cares if I’m so appalled over the choices that I stay home. I know people who say they vote for a person, not a party. I’m not sure I ever agree with that. But this election, more importantly than many other times in history, that should not apply. This President will appoint a new Supreme Court Justice. And that person will help make decisions that will affect yours, your kids’ and your grandkids’ lives. With that in mind, should that person should reflect most of your passions and values?

I have made peace with the fact that I’m not excited about the choices for President. Truth be told, every day I am embarrassed that America has decided that this is the best we have to offer. But what I can’t handle is the amount of unfriending over someone’s differing opinion. Is your passion for your candidate (or against the other) stronger than your affection for the people you’re supposedly friends with? Are you disavowing your parents or siblings over your disagreement that they’re voting for “the evil one”? Are you going to unfamily them, or just choose not to talk about it at family gatherings? I’m guessing (hoping) it’s the latter, and wondering why it’s so easy then to hit that unfriend button?

I’m not going to tell you who I’m voting for because I don’t think you care. And I want to continue to see pictures of your kids, family vacations and food. I also don’t think you would or should base your decision on how I’m going to vote, so why would I share? I do, however, encourage you to vote even if you’ve claimed #nevertrump and #neverhillary. Pick one. I won’t judge. But please resist the urge to dislike others that disagree.

Sometimes Church Be Like...

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Sometimes on Sundays I ditch church and walk in the park. I have convinced myself that God blesses it because I so appreciate His creation when I’m out in it. This great blue heron let me get about 8 feet from it and it didn’t fly away. Confirmation if I’ve ever seen it that He was good with my occasional departure from the traditional expression of church.

For the last couple of weeks I have been walking with a rock in my shoe. You may be asking why…and I do have an uninspiring but honest answer.

When I first set out on my walk, I didn’t feel the rock. When I was far enough into my target heart rate, etc. it would make its presence known (BTW I’m just kidding about the target heart rate…I’m really not that serious about my exercise program. In fact calling it an exercise program is a bit of a stretch. Basically it’s about getting to 10,000 steps on my Fitbit). Anyhow it was just enough pain to make me uncomfortable and aware but not enough to stop, take off my shoe, and shake it out. And then miraculously by the time I got home the rock had shifted enough that I didn’t feel it anymore so I would forget about it. Until next time, halfway through, and then I would silently swear to myself “IDIOT!! Gah!!” But again, I wouldn’t stop and shake it out of my shoe.

So I started to spiritualize it. I wonder if God is trying to remind me of something. Maybe it was the proverbial thorn in my side, to remind me that His grace is sufficient? Probably not, I thought. Just a stupid rock in my shoe, my laziness in the moment, and my lack of foresight before the next walk. I really am an idiot.

I have always thought that contentment was a virtue (please read my previous post about Positivity). Truly wanting what you have. And I do, and I am for the most part. But the rock in my shoe, in weird ways, did remind me that the opposite of contentment is dissatisfaction. And that’s not always a bad thing. That there’s a fine line between being content with the things we have and complacency. Are we sometimes supposed to yearn for things that we, and others, don’t have?

Sometimes when we’re not satisfied it’s a reason to investigate, an invitation to grow. And today I realized that there are many things that I’m NOT content with. That I hate, actually. To name a few (in no particular order): racism, homophobia, homelessness, cancer, broken hearts, the torture of mental illness, infertility, this presidential election, how hard it is sometimes to get to 10,000 steps, and lima beans. I can’t do anything about the lima beans (except maybe exposure therapy but I’m not really that passionate about the limas). But I can speak out against racism and homophobia (real and assumed). I can sit with those that have broken hearts or cancer. I can empathize with those that are undergoing infertility treatment because I’ve been there. I can vote, even if I don’t love the person I’m voting for. To choose not to be complacent with the state of this world and vote for someone that at least holds most of my values.

I was at a memorial service last week for a very young man who was tragically killed in a car accident, when his wife was finally pregnant after years of infertility. When they had followed God’s call to move far away from family and friends. People that spoke of him and his love for Jesus painted an amazing picture of love and community. But you know who really stole the show? His widow. The mother of his child that he didn’t get to meet. She asked everyone in the room to truly hear about him and what he chose, and to not leave unchanged. To know the story and the life of her husband and how he lived and loved, and to be forever different because of it.

So, how do I walk the line between content and enough discontent to not settle for a life unchanged by the circumstances around me? Ask God to change me to be the kind of person that leaves a mark in this world. To be a better wife, mom, grandma...a better person. To be aware of other people’s pain. To know when we’ve gone beyond contentment into complacency. To remind me of the many dire circumstances of this world by giving me a heart for things that are messed up. Even if it means walking a few miles with a rock in my shoe.

It's not about ME?!

The other day I heard a country song (yep, I listen to country sometimes. I’ll pause here so you can go unfriend me) and they were singing about being humble and kind. What a simple concept, I thought. Hold the door for the person coming in behind you. Be alert to the vertically challenged person that can’t reach the can on the top shelf at the grocery store. Or the poor soul that can’t get out of the parking lot driveway because-no-one-no-not-one-will-let-them-into-the-never-ending-freaking-line-of-cars-at-the-stop-light-because-for-the-love-of-God-I’m-late-and-I’m-blind-to-everything-but-me-so-it-really-sucks-to-be-you. Note: these are not the actual lyrics to the song; I came up with them all by myself. Also, I’m writing this post to myself as much as anyone because I fail at this sometimes frequently all of the times.

Yesterday I went on a date with my hubs. He has a motorcycle, and he LOVES him some motorcycle riding, especially with me on the back. It’s his jam, for sure. Me, not so much. My perfect date day would involve walking, riding a bicycle, or sitting in the sand listening to the surf, sipping an adult beverage. Or driving up the coast. IN. A. CAR.

So as we were flying riding on the freeway (!) toward Orange Circle, and I was mildly terrified loving every minute, imagining my helmeted head was going to blow off at any moment enjoying the freedom of the wind around us and squeezing my eyes shut soaking in the beauty of the outdoors, the idea of this post came to me.

Today it’s not about me! WHAT?! I could do something for someone else, and actually love it more than if it WERE about me? Truthfully, it was the BEST DAY! And he was so happy. It made me change my mind about motorcycle riding because of how it made him feel. I got to share his passion, and it was truly gratifying to make the day about him.

Being humble and kind can mean doing something that may be challenging for you but makes someone else’s day. Sitting for hours with someone who is hurting, or sick, and not saying a word. Not holding a grudge for that one time you said something mean and thoughtless to me. And never apologized. Saying thank you to the person who refills your water when you’re at that tragically expensive restaurant (and you’re thinking oh yes you WILL refill my water because I’m paying a dang king’s ransom for this stupid piece of salmon the size of a deck of cards and nothing else on the plate but some fancy sauce swirl). Or doing something that your spouse wants to do even if it’s mildly terrifying or not what you would choose.

My parents were not religious people in the common definition of the word. But you don't have to be in order to believe in The Golden Rule: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. My dad helped neighbors build fences and pour new driveways, just because that’s how he lived. They needed help, and he could give it. Here is how Jesus himself said it: “Here is a simple, rule-of-thumb guide for behavior: Ask yourself what you want people to do for you, then grab the initiative and do it for them.” Matthew 7:12a, The Message.

Jesus is smart.

Because it’s just about putting others before ourselves. It’s about recognizing that there’s a lot of stuff going on outside our precious self-absorbed little lives…and people that need to see more grace. And humility and kindness. And help sometimes, getting that can off the top shelf.

Give yourself away. Hold the door. Help build a fence. Choose to do what THEY want to do, instead. You will never be sorry, I promise.

#LoveIsn'tWinning

People. My heart hurts. It hurts because I see my friends beating the crap out of each other on social media. I have friends that are Christian and are celebrating the Supreme Court decision because they love people that are part of the LGBT community. I have friends that don’t support it because what they believe about being a Christian tells them that they can and should love…but not condone.

Both groups are passionate in what they believe about Jesus. That he came for love. That he died for love. That he WAS and IS love. But what is happening between these two peoples is not loving, at least from what I can see. I have seen more than one person post “Christians are spewing hate” or things of that nature about the decision. What I have seen are people that are in disagreement and being perceived as haters, on both sides. If you don’t celebrate the decision you must hate gay people. And if that’s your position, as a supporter of LGBT, you may hate Christians.

You know what I DO know? That hate is winning. Friends of mine, people who know each other and used to love each other, work together and believe in the same things, are now passionate about their anger of each other if they disagree with them.” If you don’t agree with me I’ll unfriend you faster than you can say #Ishouldhavetoldyoumylovewasconditionalonwhetherornotweagree”. I see how easily love can turn to hate. I LOVE YOU!! (as long as we’re on the same page)

I think I can say with certainty that Jesus doesn’t hate gay people. Nor is he embarrassed that Christians are speaking up about what they believe to be true about himself and the Bible. And until we can come to a place of grace and understanding about each other's differences, and be able to still love each other, we’re doomed. Social media has given us a place to “vent “with our ugly words of judgment and condemnation on both sides…and it’s definitely not helpful in teaching us to love one another. This issue may very well be the veritable straw-that-broke-the-camel’s-back for some people, because of the perceived anonymity of social media we are “brave” enough to say what we think to the masses. My conclusion: We will either learn to listen to and tolerate each other's differing opinions, passions, and convictions, with grace, or no longer be friends.

My heart hurts.