gather 'round the table

One week before Thanksgiving I got an email from "Neighbor's Table" telling me that they would be delivering tables to the southeast region of the states...would I like one?  I had been wanting a big farmhouse style table for several years now, and had inquired about one when we first moved here.  However, the timing wasn't right.  And Pete said he would build me one.  Two plus years later and I read the email with a glimmer of excitement.  "Pete, what do you think?..."  He could see my excitement and this time he agreed to the idea.  But I wasn't sure if there was still time...I hadn't responded to the email immediately and several days had passed.  Would it still be possible to get a table?  I tried not to get my hopes up too much.  But within 24 hours of my first email I heard back that a table would be loaded onto the truck from Dallas, Texas and I would be the final stop on Wednesday night (the day before Thanksgiving).  Sarah (the one behind Neighbor's Table, and also the one to deliver my table) wondered if I'd like to put together a dinner party for Wednesday night...and she would love to stick around and eat with us.  A dinner party the night before Thanksgiving?!!  Pete and I decided it would be worth the chaos and stress of fixing another meal...a way to celebrate the arrival of my table.  And not just any table...a table that held meaning for me.  You see, I have come to see that one thing I have done whether living in Kentucky, Laos, Chiang Mai, or Florida is have people sit around my table and eat.  I love to bring people together.  I love connecting people, and to welcome people around the table.  Whether it's a birthday party or a holiday or just a weekend evening gathering, I love to share my home and life with my friends.  It's one way that I feel I can love others, and build community/relationships with others.  It's a great way to introduce people to each other and help them leave feeling like friends.  And Neighbor's Table is exactly this: a love mission.  The vision behind the table is gathering people, and loving people.  My heart says YES, YES, YES!!  And so I was super excited about the arrival of my table.  It was not "just a table".  It was a vision of sharing love, resources, space, stories, friendship, around food...around a table.  In the midst of a time when politics seem to be causing division, when we hear of fear and hatred, when we begin to feel despair over the condition of our country...I feel that I can offer my table as a place to bring people together.  To live out the Kingdom of God...a place where all are welcome.  None are turned away.  The invitation is open.  The invitation is love.  And no one leaves the table empty.  May my table be a place where many gather, and where our stories are shared, and where love grows.  Amen.

ready or not

Ready or not, here I come!! Words from our favorite game of hide and seek.  And true now as Christmas approaches.  IT's coming whether we are ready or not.  How are you making yourself ready for the holiday?  It's easy to get swept up into the commercialism side of Christmas...my boys have been telling me what they want for Christmas since Halloween (it seems).  And I've been annoyed to be honest.  I wish they didn't assume Christmas meant they could ask for the most expensive and longed for thing that they've laid eyes on since last Christmas.  I wish they were into the deeper meaning of the holiday...reflecting on the birth of Jesus, and what an amazing gift this little baby was to all of us.  BUT...they ARE CHILDREN!  So Lord, have mercy.  I will be buying my boys presents...
But seriously, we all have associations with Christmas that are not all "spiritual".  And I think that's okay.  It's a time of gathering with friends and/or family to share warmth, listen to Christmas songs, put up the tree and be enamored by the lights, drink hot mulled cider or hot chocolate, and do nice things for others.  These are good things.  These are even holy things.  I don't really like to separate what is "spiritual" and what is not.  I think it is all sacred and wonderful as we lean into each other, lean into God, lean into the empty spaces that we feel the rest of the year.  We long for community, deeper relationships, closeness.  And this is the time of the year that we feel freer to exhibit these emotions of delight, laughter, joy, even a childlikeness as we touch the ornaments and remember years past when we put these same ornaments up on our trees.  Christmas brings back memories.   Memories of childhood.  Memories of the birth of our first child.
I am not ignorant to believe that all the memories are good, or that all of you reading this have good associations with Christmas.  Perhaps some of you have closed your heart because Christmas carries with it bad memories.  Or maybe you felt disappointment with it as a child when the presents you wanted were never under the tree.  Maybe you don't see any reason to get joyous this Christmas season.  That's ok.
But that is where the simplicity of the first "Christmas" (I realize it wasn't really called Christmas y'all...) causes me to pause in awe.  A woman carrying a child that she had not been dreaming about before she got news that she was pregnant (she was just planning to get married!)...a woman who really wasn't "special" by any earthly means.  A woman who was not known by many.  In fact, when she and her husband came to Bethlehem on a donkey, no one was laying out the red carpet to welcome her in.  Nope.  She was told "sorry, there's no room here.  Move on." and probably she heard lots of annoyed sighs, mumbled phrases behind her back, or even doors closed.  She and her husband were nothing special.  They kept moving along, even with a very swollen belly that made moving along a slow laborious task.  But they knew they needed to find somewhere to lay their heads and welcome this little child into the not very welcoming world.  A world that needed hope.  A world that was in need of love.  A world full of fear.  And so they kept searching for a place that would be their place to give birth and life.  And finally, someone said "Yes, I have a small simple place for you.  IT's nothing much, but you can use it..."  And with no other choice, this simple woman and man entered into a humble place to give birth to a little child who was coming to bring hope and light to a world full of despair and darkness.
Does our world not feel similar even now?  In light of all the hatred and fear that we hear rumblings of on the news.  Does it not feel that we, too, are longing for hope and light and healing?  Are we not quite similar to the condition of the world then, when a little child was born?  And so I look around and wonder how I might make room for life and love and hope to spring up in my home.  Can I make room for people to gather around our table?  Is there room here for a little one to show us the way to heal and have hope?  Yes, Lord Jesus, we welcome you here.  We need one who can help us.  There is so much fear and hatred and hurt and pain in the world we live in.  Sometimes it feels like we have no way forward.  Sometimes it feels like there's nothing that will change it.  But we make room for you. We make room for hope, and light, and the birth of a little baby who came to show us another way.  Come, Emmanuel, come.

colors of autumn

breaking the silence

It's easy to not post anything here because I often get stuck between "great thoughts in my head" and actually sitting down to type these great thoughts.  And then those "great thoughts" disappear.  So instead of waiting for those great thoughts to return, I'll just write something to break the silence.  Just because.  Sometimes I get caught up in trying to say something "great".  And then my posting stops because sometimes I just have things to say...are they great or not?  There's a lot of felt pressure to write cool things, funny things, wise things...but why not take the pressure off and just write?  I've been asking myself this lately.  So...here I am just writing.  Just being myself.  Or at least trying.  And so I am going to stop as quickly as I started because if I keep going, I will start trying to be "great".  Sometimes it's nice to just be.  And let that being be enough.  The end.

remember who you are

Sometimes I forget who I am.  I start trying to be someone I am not--forgetting that this isn't going to lead me anywhere but to emptiness and loneliness.  This forgetting comes when I start to lose sight of the beauty of who I am--uniquely myself.  Just as we all are and should be.  But when we are surrounded by others who have forgotten--or who have never really seen their own unique beauty--we start to question ourselves.  I have found myself doing this recently.  I have been on a LONG journey of finding myself.  Asking "who am I?"  This question has meant getting to know God and believing that he created me just right.  But our world tells us there's something wrong with us.  Marketing makes sure we always feel a sense of incompleteness and need (you can't make money off of people who are content and don't need anything).  And so our world, and likely our friends, are reminding us constantly that we are not enough.  We need to change something.  Buy something.  Be more of something.  Create something.  Do something.  We are NOT ENOUGH.  We can't possibly be valuable as we are.  And so we become forgetful of who we are.  Or maybe we never really knew (since we left childhood behind...)

But doesn't it feel good to be with old friends who really knew us back when life seemed less complicated?  Or maybe they knew us during a season when we were walking through something hard and they stuck by us.  Or maybe you have a friend who you feel safe to be yourself in a way you can't be with anyone else.  And when you get back together with that person you feel a deep sigh of relief...like you have just kicked your legs back in a recliner and you don't have to do the dance of trying to prove or become for the moment.

This past weekend my husband had this opportunity.  His dad passed away which meant flying up to New England to be with people he doesn't know very well (and who don't know him very well).  After the family time he was able to make a short three hour drive to be with a good friend from college.  A friend who knows Pete in a different way than most other friends.  As I talked with him this morning he said it was so good to be with this friend because he felt like he could be himself--even after seven years of not seeing each other!!  No sorting through layers of insecurity and self-doubt.  Just being appreciated for who he is, and appreciating another friend and his wife for who they are.  This is rest. This is a gift!!

Gosh, why do we forget so easily?  Why do we so quickly get swept up into a current that pulls us away from our centeredness?  Forgetting who we are is tiring.  Remembering who we are allows us to rest.  "Oh, yeah, this is me.  I am not all those other people.  I don't have to prove myself to them.  I'm enough as I am."  

There's just one me.  Just one you.  When I make room for all the diversity of beauty and stop trying to find myself in you or others I can rest.  I can stop relating to others in a way of trying to find myself, and just BE MYSELF.

But to remember takes an intentional stepping out of the busy-ness of life.  It takes a stepping outside of the school of fish and looking around.  I have to quiet myself and allow myself to listen to what's inside, listen to the voice of my Creator.  I cannot find myself when I am busy swimming around with everyone.  

The invitation is to remember, and to know.  If you feel weary, it might be because you (like me) have forgotten who you are...and who you aren't.  It's okay my friend.  Step aside.  Remember who you are...and then you can step back in.

arms open wide

I found myself glaring at the man standing just opposite from me on the subway.  He stood out and I couldn't help but watch him and feel deep hatred towards him.   It was obvious that this man was in Thailand as a sex tourist...or at least that was what I perceived.  It was hard for me to ignore him and go about my own business.  Everything in me wanted to go tell him that what he was doing was wrong.  Instead, I just glared at him...hoping he would feel that he could not just be anonymous with what he was doing.  Someone noticed.  I noticed.  Even if everyone else remained aloof and diverted their eyes...I noticed.  My heart ached for the young woman who was trying her hardest to appear that she was happy to be with this man...this man at least three times her age.
But I felt helpless, and the anger (hatred) that I carried within me did no one any good.  It did not stop the man from buying sex from this young woman.  It did not free the woman from the sex industry that night.  The hatred just stayed within me, burning and leaving me weary.
Over time I found myself suspecting all the men around me.  We were in a small country in Southeast Asia for the purpose of helping some of these young women who wanted to leave the sex industry.  I had left America to serve these women...with a desire to help them find emotional healing and spiritual freedom.  But instead I found myself weighed down by the heaviness and the darkness that seemed to be lurking everywhere.  When I would drive around the city I saw it everywhere.  Perhaps my imagination was on overdrive and began seeing it everywhere...or maybe it really was.  But instead of being energized to do my part in helping, I felt the heavy burden placed ever increasingly on my shoulders.  Only when we would leave for our brief vacations would I feel a sense of weight lifted...only to return one week later and find it was all still there.
And then one weekend I went down to Bangkok in order to see a doctor for health issues I couldn't resolve (likely a result of the stress I was carrying around).  As I got on the subway, I at once noticed these men lurking everywhere (yes, they are many).  But something happened.  I found myself moved to pray for them.  Instead of cursing them under my breath and shooting fiery hateful arrows towards them, I smiled and prayed blessings over them.  "You are loved!" I whispered under my breath.  Why?  It was a strange thing.  But I realized that these men needed love and prayer and blessings just as much as the women.  These men were hurting, too.  I found myself moved deeply with love and care for these men.  It was a new feeling, but so much better (and lighter) than the hatred I had allowed to simmer all too often.  It reminded me that these men needed people to love them and see them as humans just as much as the women needed love and dignity.
Perhaps one might say that neither my hatred towards these men, nor my love towards these men did anything to change the situation.  But I would disagree.  Something big changed.  Me.  With the hatred I carried a heavy burden with me that I could do nothing about.  But with love I found myself open and light, allowing the burden to be God's.  Not mine.  My heart (and arms) could open to these men and women, not be closed.  Today as I sat at church taking communion I looked up and saw Jesus in our stained glass window.  His arms were extended and open wide.  That is the Jesus who says "come to me all who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest."  That is the Jesus who welcomes the sinners and lives are changed.  That is the Jesus who offers love to the sex tourists, to the broken sex workers.  That is the one who offers life, not death.  Love not hate.  And that is the one I wish to carry around and offer.  That is the one who gives us hope in a world so broken and full of hate.  I wish to open my heart and arms to the hurting.  Those arms are the arms I have needed.  Those are the arms that the world needs.  Those are the arms I wish to extend again and again to others.  May it be so.

hitting the bottom

One year ago plus a few months, I found myself at my very bottom.  It was a scary place to be, but there was no avoiding it.  All my coping mechanisms had failed, and I was mentally/physically/spiritually exhausted.  There was nothing left to fight with...so I guess you could say that I finally surrendered to my bottom.  Finally allowed myself to let go of fighting it.  Perhaps that is the place we all have to hit in order to finally allow a deeper work to happen in our lives.  I imagine it's what an alcoholic must come to in order to finally admit they need help and begin the long hard recovery process.  So long as we can keep fighting against the bottom and avoid going there, we will. No one in their "right" mind will choose the bottom as long as they believe they don't have to.  So long as we think we can figure the way out, we will keep figuring our way out.  But eventually, some of us will hit the bottom.  The dark, scary, low place where we have been avoiding all these years.  And once we've hit it, the only way forward is to embrace what the bottom has to teach us.
When I was on my fast landslide down I was in full panic mode.  Reaching out to everyone I knew to pray for me, shield me from my bottom.  I didn't want to go down.  I wanted to go up.  But all my efforts to go up were only taking me a little further down.  What had worked for years before was not working anymore.  In a way I knew that I was heading down.  A good friend of mine that I've known since my seminary days (15 years now!!) Skyped with me once a week.  There were several weeks when I didn't want to talk because I knew that I was just going to do "more of the same"...meaning sob.  Big weepy sobbing.  It was scary.  It was messy.  It was not pretty.
But she stayed.  She insisted that we Skype.  She insisted on being there even if all I could do was say a few words through my snotty nosed sobs.  She was there for me, helping me see that I was not alone.  That she would stick it out to the bitter descent to the bottom.  On one of these calls I expressed a deep fear..."I feel like I'm going to end up in the mental hospital!"  And instead of gasping in horror or shock, she assured me that she had known good women who had been in the mental hospital, and that it had been okay.  While I was still horrified to think of myself going to a mental hospital, somehow knowing that my friend would not stigmatize me or look at me with anything but love...it lost some of its FEAR factor.  Even my worst fear would be okay.
In the end, I did not end up at the mental hospital.  But I don't really say that to boast.  I actually am quite humbled that I didn't end up there.  But I was close.  The doctor started me on anti-anxiety meds to help me deal with the state of anxiety I was stuck in.  These meds started to bring immediate relief, though they were not the answer.  They were merely the ticket to begin to step away from the edge of the cliff.  I was able to sleep again.  But the hard journey was yet before me...
For the next two months I spent hours just being.  Journaling, resting, being still.  Meditating.  Finding my Center (for me God is that center).  I went on daily walks.  EVERY THING I DID was with the hope of finding peace.  My thoughts were consumed with how I would get out of this dark low place.  How I would overcome the anxiety.  How I would climb up the tall mountain looming before me.
I still remember one day when I went for a walk and the whole way home thoughts of wanting to die loomed in my head.  It was SCARY.  I was afraid of this desire to not be alive.  I had to fight for my life because I had two boys who needed a mom.  When I got home I immediately started texting any friend I could think of who would lovingly respond to me in my time of need.  PRAY FOR ME!!!  I texted.  I knew I could not fight this darkness alone.  I needed friends to pray for me and fight for me.
During this time I found a verse that said "I will fight for you, you need only to be still."  The idea of God fighting for me was novel.  I had tried to fight against the anxiety for so long, and I was exhausted.  And I knew that there was nothing in me to muster up and pretend that I knew how to fight the anxiety.
Surrender was the invitation.  It continues to be the invitation in my life.
I'm not really sure what has inspired me to share all of this today, but in the last month I am finding myself in a very different place.  A place where I do not feel threatened to think about the dark pit of one year ago.  I am no longer standing on quicksand.  I can sense a firm ground beneath my feet.  Perhaps I sense that God is with me, allowing me to look at that place and see where he has brought me up and out of.
And what is interesting to me is that I know that my story is not merely my own story...it is our story.  We are all interconnected (whether we want to be or not).  And so I do not think that what I have learned from this past year is only for me.  It has deepened me, changed me, done something in my very being.  I am not the same person.  And I believe that this work is God's work in my life.  And it's the kind of work he wants to do in each and every one of our lives.  Your bottom doesn't look like my bottom.  In that way our stories are different.  But we all have those places of darkness.  Some of us have met those places already.  We have encountered those places and discovered the treasures that lie in the muck of surrendering to His work in our lives.  Or perhaps you are IN that place of darkness right now, still wondering what the path up and out will be.  Some of you have not encountered the darkness, or perhaps you are avoiding it.
But I feel like my life is a testimony to the truth that the fear of the darkness is much scarier than the actual darkness itself.  And as we let go of all our own attempts at saving ourselves--in this act of surrender--we will find that true life is there waiting for us.  And God will fight for you...you need only to be still.  Peace be with you!