G: for Game Plan

Month one is in the books!  And I did it!  Mostly.

A few excerpts from my journal:

Day One - Breakfast done.  Dishes washed.  Sinks and cupboards scrubbed.  Dishwasher running.  Blog post written . . . Boy can I start strong, though!

Day Two - . . . Kids may hate me when this is done, but I love our clean house.

Day Four - This project would likely be easier without a family to mess up my hard work behind me.  It tuns out I can be quite the screaming lunatic as I remind myself this is my experiment not theirs.  Still, cleaning up after their smoothie making is on them, right?

Day Eleven - And . . . stalled.  Bee guy came out and porch is un-usable.  Plus it's 8,000 degrees, so there is no painting or organizing happening . . . It turns out this keeping things clean is tricky when I'm barely home.  And when it is so hot.  I've also noticed the key really is cleaning every room as I move through it.  If only I could convince my kids to do the same.

Day Nineteen - Oh my.  Full confession time.  Not only has my room not been clean at bedtime every night, but it isn't even clean at all.  Like, not a single time . . . I'm not going to get all of these projects done this month.  But I'm loving the satisfaction of finishing up.

Day Thirty-one - I did it!  It was rough by the end, but I think I have a handle on the schedule I need.  Got our room clean and love keeping it that way.  We have also spent the day(s) fighting with the girls to get their rooms clean.  Now to get them to school and get their "back to school" stuff cleaned up and out of here.

How I did: I got the projects done (plus two)!  Cleaning each room as I walk through it is the key to this whole puzzle.  As is a schedule for deeper cleaning (so many spiders in this house!).  Also, family is unwilling to be enlisted to empty their laundry baskets.

What I'll continue:At least two projects completed per month.  Clean rooms as I walk through. Keep trying to enlist family. Create monthly and yearly schedule for cleaning.


Now on to month two!  I like this game plan bit with the goals as I try to continue this experiment of loving my actual life . . . by first getting to know my actual life and sorting it all enough that I can actually see it.

Month Two is "First Things First -- Mornings."  I used to be a morning person, but somewhere along the way I started staying up too late and barely functioning before 8:00 a.m.  Last school year that left us frantically running to beat the bus on our best mornings and arguing and crying on our worst (that would be me and at least one child crying).  Something's got to give if I'm going to love this actual life . . . and be a bringer of peace in the morning instead of a creator of chaos.

So, first things first.  Mornings.  We camped for Labor Day weekend, so I actually started today, Day Six.  The first day of school.

What I Will Actually Do:
* Wake up before the rest of my house.
* Be dressed and ready for the day by 7:00 a.m.
* Prep breakfast and leaving the house the night before (as much as possible).
* Go to sleep by 10:30 so all those things can happen.

What I Will Always Remember:

His compassions never fail.  They are new every morning.

                                                                                                        {Lamentations 3:22-23}

Every. Single. One.



{Have you checked out this book yet?  Go get it now.  You'll thank me.}

F: for Following Through

I met a goal!

Yeah.  Probably not something to brag about (and likely a bit embarrassing to make note of), but this is what we've come to, people.  It is, indeed, noteworthy for me to say I met a goal.

It was at the eleventh hour (actually just into the tenth), but I made it!

A few months ago I received this wonderful book from a friend of mine.  I read the introduction and cried my way through it.  I felt like the author, Alexandra Kuykendall, was speaking to me.  To me.  And why Baker would publish a book written expressly for me I didn't know, but I was so grateful they had.

Then I put the book on my shelf.  I didn't have time for its experiments and its challenges and its hardness.  I always intended to pick it back up, because I intended to do the experiments myself.  I intended to dedicate these next nine months of the school year to loving my actual life.  So, knowing how quickly I get distracted, I figured I should pick it back up.  I wanted to read through it all once before school starts the day after Labor Day and then go through it again, chapter by chapter, month by month.

Once I got started a week or so ago, I realized I needed to start my months a bit sooner.  So I revised my goal to finish the book before the end of July so I could get started on August 1.  Reasons to come in a minute.

It may sound silly, but I had to work to get this finished by July 31.  When the vacations end and the realities of being a work-at-home mom and a work-from-home mom set in, my reading time is relegated to the quickly fleeting hour between when my oldest is tucked in bed and when I should be tucked in bed.  That's also my "catch up on a TV show," "check Pinterest," "write," "tidy up the house," and "figure out the plans for tomorrow" time.  (See why I need this book?)  But this was important to me, and I was going to make it happen.

And I did!

I entitled this post "Following Through" not because I needed an F (though I did), but because that is one of my greatest challenges in life.  I am a fantastic starter.  There are very few people who can prepare and begin as well as me.  That said, most of the projects in my house are still unfinished, I have four started novels that dream of being submitted for publication and an additional five stories I've started for my sisters and friends which are still half untold, my Bible through the year plan has 1/4 of the check boxes empty, I keep gaining and losing the same ten pounds, my tennis shoes and running clothes are still stacked next to my bed, and the majority of the laundry in our house is washed and dried but unfolded in baskets in the basement and laundry room.

I'm a goal setter.  I'm a dreamer.  I'm not a doer.  I'm not a follow-througher.

Until last night.  Now I did it.  I set a goal for myself, I decided to bump it to a shorter time frame, and I did it!  I FOLLOWED THROUGH ON SOMETHING!

Yes!

So now what?  Now I can do it in other things.  That's what I've shown myself.  And I'm going to need that this year.  There have been many books I've thought, "Ooh, I'd like to work my way through this over the next month."  Those books are now dusty on my shelf, most of them more than half unread.  But this one is different.  This one needs to be different.  I feel like my life depends on this one.  At least loving it does.

Alexandra Kuykendall set out on a 9-month experiment to love her actual life, in its chaos and mundaneness and mess and joys.  And she laid out the plan for us to follow.  So I'm going to.  This is the life God gave me, and I think he meant for me to love it . . . not just tolerate it.

She started out with "embracing quiet."  I can see that, and I need to do that.  I need to do all the things, but this is a 9-month experiment.  And I'm going to start where I need to.  With following through.

Month 6 for Alex was Home Organization, but that's Month 1 for me.  There are a few reasons for that.  One is to show myself that I can follow through.  We moved into our house just over a year ago (like the end of the July), and I have several started projects to decorate and organize that I have planned or even begun (is a can of paint still good after one year if I never even opened it?) that are now shoved in a drawer or used as a door stop to keep the cat out of our bedroom (that can of paint is good for something at least!).  So I want to follow through with those, and I want to see progress.  Beautiful progress.  On my walls.  Another reason is because school starts next month.  This is my last month of summer, and I still haven't organized the papers and projects from last school year.  Before I bring the chaos of 2nd, 3rd, and 6th grades into my house I need to get rid of the chaos of 1st, 2nd, and 5th.  Finally, this is where I want to start.  So I might as well make it fun, right?

Month 1: Home Organization

What I will actually do:
Finish two house projects a week.  (Even if I have to hire them done.  Then I need to work that into the budget.)
Pick up items to put away as I walk through a room.
Make sure my bedroom is cleaned before I go to sleep.
Enlist the family's help in folding and putting away laundry so baskets are empty in the laundry room by Monday morning.
Clean up breakfast and lunch before dinner every day--including the dishes (don't judge; I'm bad at follow through remember?).

I'm going to journal my successes and failures like Alex did, and I'll even share some of what I learn here.  Then I'll list out Month 2 as well.  Because half of follow through is knowing someone will check in with you to see how you did.

D: for Democracy, Diversity, and He Who Will Not Be Named

I've had this blog post written in my head several times since July 3.  Each time I thought I would sit down and write it, I didn't for whatever reason.  And then the middle and end of last week happened, and I thought, "Well, maybe it's not done yet; that's why I didn't write it."

And then I thought, "It's all been said.  Why would I say it?"

And then I thought, "It's the one thing I have.  It's the voice I have.  Start writing."

So here I am.

I know everyone is tired of this conversation.  Either you are tired because you've been living it your whole life and now you're seeing it bigger and louder in front of you, and you're worried people will fall asleep again tomorrow.  Or maybe you're tired because you see it and you haven't said anything and now you are saying things, and you're losing family members and friends and being verbally attacked by them for saying something.  Or maybe you're tired because you think the conversation itself is the problem or at least is making it bigger, and you just want an ideal world where all people matter.

(Note: I ignored the "tired of having to consider that people other than your own race matter in the world or should have anything" because I'm really and sincerely hoping I don't have any relationships with people who would dare say that out loud or even think it in their soul.  Most of my friends and acquaintances have seen my evil eyes and don't want to again.)

Let's start with the tired.  Let's agree that we all feel that way.  And then let's end with the "want an ideal world where all people matter" and where we all have the same opportunities.  Because we also agree on that.

We all do.

And that world is coming.  (It's called A New Heaven and a New Earth.  It's gonna be so great, you guys.)

But for now, we live in between the nobody matters and the everybody matters, and that makes us all tired.

So what do we do?  We discuss.  We debate.  We dialogue with kind words and express our opinions.  We definitely do not dismiss.  We don't dismiss people or their experiences, just because we didn't experience them ourselves or because we don't want them to be true or because we don't believe them to be true.  We don't dismiss people or their experiences.

I'm white.  I'm middle class.  I am told that when I was young my family didn't have a lot.  We lived in government housing, so I'm pretty certain that is true.  I don't remember ever not eating enough, though, or even missing a snack in the day let alone not eating three meals.  But my mom tells me of a time when she and my dad had a can of corn to split between them for dinner.

Still, I'm white.

And that is the phrase, the descriptor, that meant the world.  We may not have had much (and then later we had plenty and then now we have more than enough), but no one assumed it was because we were lazy.  Or because we were criminals.  Or that we should have stayed wherever it is we came from.

The simple fact is that there are rich people and there are poor people.  Most of the rich people are white.  Most of the poor people are black.  There are people who go to colleges and to good high schools and there are people who are stuck in failing schools.  Most of the colleges and the good high schools are filled with white students.  Most of the failing schools are filled with black students.  There are people who get pulled over for breaking laws or for speeding and there are people who get pulled over because they are on certain roads or in certain neighborhoods.  You guessed it, the first are mostly white.  The second are mostly black.

When a crime has been committed, and you hear about it on the news, what color is the "bad guy"?  Think about it.  Before you see a picture or before you hear a description, what does the guy look like in your head?  Do you have to change that image when you hear it was a white guy?  (Insert uncomfortable chuckle and an "Oh God" here.  I know, because I have.  And I do.  And I hate that about myself.)

When you hear about someone doing something amazing or a researcher discovering a cure for something, what color is the "good guy"?  The genius?

When you picture Jesus.  Does he have flowing dark blond/light brown hair and blue eyes?  Because, you know, Middle Eastern.

We are a whitewashed society.  We are not a color blind society.  We are a whitewashed society where the good guys are white and the bad guys are black or brown.  There are very few facts to back up that notion, but still we roll with it.

Now, I know what you're thinking (because I've thought it):

What about black on black crime?

If only the black people would try harder, then maybe they'd be successful.

Why can't they just act more like me?  Then cops would know they respect them and would respect them back.

I remember working at an inner-city school years ago.  Two students walked in the door one morning where the superintendent was high fiving and shaking hands with everyone.  One boy called another boy (affectionately, I think) a dog.  The superintendent pulled the boy aside and asked, "How is he supposed to feel good about himself if you are referring to him as a dog?"

That stuck with me.  Because it's true.  If I look in the mirror and call myself fat, how do you think I'm going to eat that day?  If I hear myself in the shower and say I can't sing, why would I be willing to join a choir?  If I tell myself time and time again that I'm a crappy writer who has nothing to say, how many blog posts do you think I'll write? (Answer: see the last few years of this blog.)

My achievements or lack thereof are directly related to what I tell myself is true about myself--and what others believe is true about me.

If the entire population of people who look like you can look back at government documents of this country and see, see with your actual eyes, words written down and laws written down stating you are worth less than one white person, how do you think you'll feel about yourself?

Not good.  I guarantee it.

Stack on top of that fewer educational opportunities for generations and less income and "affordable" housing that looks like the Projects where people are stacked on top of each other and more pushing down and fewer expectations for greatness . . . and what you have is a people who feel like they are worth less than if they'd simply been born white.

That makes people angry.  And that makes people act out.  And heck yeah (you white gun owners who own your assault rifles to protect yourselves from the bears or the government) you're going to carry a weapon wherever you go.  Because you have to protect yourself--from other people who are angry and frustrated and believe that's all they're worth . . . and white people who believe all those same things.

Okay, but . . .

What about so-and-so black guy who is a leading heart surgeon?

What about that white guy I saw who eats only one meal a day and it's one someone else gave him?

Yep.  There are always exceptions.  On both ends.  And if you want to hold on to those exceptions and expect everyone to rise above their life circumstances to be amazing, if that's what you want to point to all the time, then be the Saturday-morning jogger who wins Olympic gold or the shower-singer turned Tony-award-winning actress.  We don't all achieve those levels of greatness.  Even if we try really, really hard, we just don't.

Most of the time we need help.

Most of the time we need extra attention.

Most of the time we're winning if we just keep running on Saturday mornings or singing and dancing in the shower.

Most of the time we're winning if we just survive.


Fine.  But Beka, all lives matter.  Jesus died for everyone.

Yes.  He did.  Remember that New Heaven and New Earth where it's all gonna be so great you can hardly stand waiting to get there?  That's when it's all made right again.

But while we live here, in the in between, Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me."

So was He saying no adults should come?

No.  He was saying, "To you, in this world, children don't matter as much.  You are pushing them aside and shushing them.  Well, I'm telling you they matter to me."

So, Jesus.  Are you saying the Pharisees and the Tax Collectors and even your disciples don't matter?

"No.  They do.  That's why I came.  To give them worth and make them matter.  But right now you are treating them as if they don't."

All lives matter.  Blue lives matter.  "Red, green, purple, and blue" lives matter.  (Yes, I actually saw that somewhere on Facebook this past week.  I don't know any purple people except those who are choking, and yes even they matter.  But they need different attention.)

All lives do matter, but our society has made it clear that they aren't all treated as if they matter.  To say one life matters to me isn't to say no other lives matter.  It just says, "I see you.  And I want to make it better."


Racism is alive and thriving in this country.  And it isn't just thriving in the people who put on pointy white hats and carry burning stakes looking for people to kill.  It isn't just thriving in Hate.  Sometimes it's thriving in what more closely resembles love.  Sometimes it's thriving in higher-than-possible expectations or guilt-ridden handouts or refusing to acknowledge there could be a problem or in keeping our mouth shut when something happens or in making someone else's experience about you.  Sometimes it is thriving in our churches.

"Oh, but our church welcomes all people."

Does it?  Does it welcome them even if they dress wrong or worship wrong or have a different scope of time than you?  Does it seek them out and embrace them?  Or does it just accept them?

Because just accepting them if they happen by makes it clear they don't matter all that much to you.

And your "helping."  Does it come with conditions or out of pity, or does it come from a desire to come alongside and really help?  Does it come with advice or a "well if you would just," or does it come with listening and empathy and a "how can I make this more equitable for you"?

Does it come with you being vocal and saying, "This matters to me.  You matter to me.  You matter so much that I will take my eyes off myself and the hard life I have lived and the challenges I have overcome to just sit and listen to you.  And then when I have listened to you, and I have believed what you are telling me, I will speak.  I will stand in front of you to protect you from the people who don't get it.  I will stand next to you and march with you.  I will say all I can until I can't say anymore so that you are not the only one fighting this battle."

Or does it come with you saying, "All lives matter.  And by pointing out color or by continuing to focus on diversity you are continuing to perpetuate the problem."

Because there is a difference there.

My family and I went to western South Dakota this summer.  I haven't been there for probably 29 years, and so much has changed.  Oh, the Badlands are still there, but the walkouts and the trails have changed.  Wall Drug has grown and collected more crap.  Even Mount Rushmore has a new movie and an entirely different viewing platform--and the parking!  So different.

You know what hasn't changed?  In nearly three decades, the only thing that is the exact same is the trailer park east of Rapid City.  I think even some of the trailers there are the same.  You know who lives there? Native Americans.  In the United States, the top three poorest counties are in South Dakota.  And they are comprised almost entirely of reservation land.

We did that.  That's what the white people settling here in this country did.  Because white lives matter more.

They always have.  And they will, until we, the white lives, speak up.  Until we recognize that in order for all lives to matter, black lives and Native lives and Muslim lives need to be our priority.


We live in one of the best countries in the world.  I love our freedoms and our democracy and our entertainment (though I do NOT get this Pokemon GO thing).  I love this country.  But for more than 120,000,000 (that's 120 million) people, this country has never been Great.  Just because it has for you doesn't mean it has for everyone.  And it doesn't mean we don't have a problem.

We can't continue to go around saying "Make America GREAT Again" when to more than 100 million people that means "Make America WHITE Again" and when it has never actually been truly great.

We can't continue to go around saying "But I like how he speaks his mind and is feared by the establishment" when what he is saying is we should round up all the people who look Muslim and interrogate them to make sure we're safe.

We can't continue to go around saying "Let's just stop seeing and labeling color" when millions and millions of people know every day their color is what limits them or makes people think they're criminals.

We can't continue to say "But law enforcement is a hard profession and it's really dangerous and they just want to get home to their families at the end of the day and not all cops are racist or power hungry" when black people are pulled over at higher rates than white people and treated more aggressively--whether they have committed a crime or not.

I love this country.

I love law enforcement.

I love my family.

I love my church.

Let me never tire of trying to make any of those things their best selves.

On 4th of July weekend I sang on the worship team at church.  The pianist and her violin-playing grandson played a beautiful version of "America the Beautiful" during the prelude.  Bill, who was singing too, and I sang the first two verses with them.  The first one is all purple mountains majesty and amber waves of grain lovely.  The second one stopped me in my tracks:

O beautiful for Pilgrim feet,
Whose stern, impassioned stress
A thoroughfare for freedom beat
Across the wilderness!
America! America!
God mend thine every flaw.
Confirm thy soul in self-control,
Thy liberty in law.

Can you imagine?  What if the thoroughfare built across the wilderness of this country and of this conversation was one beat for freedom--by our impassioned stress and efforts.  Oh, God.  That is the America I want.  That is the America that is great.  That is the America people can be proud to call home.  That is the America where all lives matter.

But to get there . . . God, mend our every flaw.

I know it's hard.  Healing and wholeness and justice is never painless.  But there are a group of people who have been shouldering all that pain on their own, and it's time we bear it with them.

Everything We Need to Know We Learned While Training Dragons

I meant to share this a while ago, when I first took my three daughters (and my dad) to see "How To Train Your Dragon 2" over the summer.  But then life happened (or laziness ensued or distraction set in or insert any other excuse here), and I didn't get around to it.  Then my nieces watched it during our family Christmas celebration, and news events happened in our country, and I was reminded.

So, in the theme of things as I close out 2014, better late than never.

While I was watching "How to Train Your Dragon 2," two themes kept coming to mind.  They, coupled with something I listened to myself whisper as I held my frightened four-year-old daughter on my lap, made up three truths about life I've learned over the last several years.  And, as I watch the news each day, I see how essential it is that I teach them to my girls.

It's been too long for me to give specific references to the film, and maybe they aren't even as important as real-life examples, so here goes nothing.

1) Talking and getting to know new people is better than fighting.
Our country is on the cusp of something major.  In college I studied the Civil Rights Movement, and in the cry of silent protesters and angry crowds I see so much history being repeated.  On another front there are lines being drawn about gay rights and transgender individuals and what is Christian and what is right. Then there is addiction--both the addicts themselves and the people who desperately love them and want to be enough for them . . .

We're in a mess of hurting people, and "we" as the Church are too often stepping up to the wrong side of those lines.  Yes.  There is right and there is wrong.  But God never asked us to judge the heart of man.  He asked us to love His children.  If I insist on pointing out the right and the wrong and ignore the brokenness and desperation, am I doing that?  No.  So.  Talking and getting to know people is better than fighting.  We need each other.  We need each other for what we can learn from people who are different than us, and we need each other for what we can share with people who are different than us.  And, most importantly, we need each other because without each other I'm not sure we can ever see a true picture of the God who created each of us.

2) Work together to fight the bullies.
Maybe this lends itself to #1 up there.  We. Need. Each. Other.  Period.  There's nothing more to it than that.  There are bullies in this world.  Some of them are big and physically violent.  Some of them are small and insidious.  Some of them are in the pews next to us in our churches.  Some of them stand in our capitol buildings.  Some of them wear a badge and carry a gun.  Some of them work on our news stations or in a cubicle next to us.

But, it's important to remember that not all of the people in those roles are bullies.

As I'm involved in a Global Learners' Initiative through my daughters' school district I have learned one important lesson: NEVER go alone.  Find a friend.  A buddy.  Someone who has your back.  Because here's the thing.  The bullies are tough.  Their insecurities and ignorance and hatred make them formidable, and their desperation makes them dangerous.

So don't go alone.

Let's join together.  Alone we can get killed.  Alone we can bend and break under the pressure.  Alone we can get laughed out of the room.

If you see a bully who needs to be fought, ask a friend to join you.  If you see a friend who's fighting a battle, join in.  Don't quarrel about differences in technique or philosophy or theology or interpretation.  Just fight alongside someone who needs it.

Fight the bullies with truth and goodness.  Maybe we'll get beaten in this battle.  But we'll win the war.

3) "It might get scary, but it will be okay."
This one is my favorite.  During the great battle scene at the end of the moview, my youngest daughter crawled onto my lap and whispered that she was scared.  I wrapped my arms around her, squeezed her tightly, and whispered back, "Baby, it will be okay.  It might get scary, but it will be okay."

There is truth to this, I realized as I heard my words.  That's life, friends.  It gets scary sometimes.  But it will be okay.

What a year my family had closing out 2013 and throughout 2014.  We were betrayed by friends--publicly.  Lies were told.  Tears were shed.  Curse words were uttered.  Truth is still taking its time stepping into the light.  In the middle of all of it, a brother ended his fight with PTSD.  And now, at the end of it (we thought), my dad has been diagnosed with prostate cancer.  His prognosis is good, though the cancer is aggressive.  Still, it's cancer.  There will be surgery and, depending on what the doctors find, maybe treatments.

It might get scary, but it will be okay.

We have faith.  And we have God.  And we have each other.  And we have grace.  And we know that in the end, it will all be okay.


Let these three lessons carry us into the new year, friends.  Let this be the year that the Church stops caring about semantics and starts caring about the heart of Christ.  Let this be the year that the bullies are fought against and that the bullied find us standing with them.  Let this be the year of hope in the midst of the fear that everything really will work out in the end.  And, in the middle of it all, let us find grace and love and joy.

Random Thoughts from the Sabbath

I wanted to write something about my day yesterday, but there are several "somethings" in my mind.  At this point they don't seem too connected, so we'll call it random for now and see where we end up.

Thought #1
Dr. Branson Parler, Kuyper College professor and member at Fourth Reformed, preached about freedom yesterday.  It was an ironic message topic since Beau and I were "free" from our kids for the weekend and were enjoying that the noisy kids in the service weren't ours for a change.  As Branson preached on Galatians 5:13-6:2, he talked about how the world so often views freedom as just that--freedom from something.  The reality is that God wants to free us for something.  He frees us for Himself and He frees us for others. 

Yes, God does free us from sin, but it is so that we are free for living the lives that God created us to live.  To reclaim some part of that peace and joy and communion with Him and others.  One of the things Branson pointed out is that when you chop off your finger (because we all do that, right?), you haven't actually freed it from anything.  You have only condemned it to death.  The only way a finger can actually be a finger and do finger things is when it is attached to the body.  The same is true for us.  The only way that we can be ourselves, who we have been created to be and living out the gifts God has uniquely given to us, is when we are connected to the body.

Thought #2
Branson also quoted one of the most beautiful and gut-punching verses in the Bible.  It deserves its own thought, because it's just that good.  Galatians 5:6 "The only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love."

Thought #3
I have been teaching 7th-12th grade Christian Ed at church this year.  We're covering the Heidelberg Catechism, with varying degrees of success (as defined by the leaders' manual, I suppose), enjoyment (mine and that of my 7th-12th graders), and commitment (again, mine and theirs--I won't lie about that).  It's such lovely and weighty subject matter, and unfortunately I don't think our curriculum really speaks to my students or leaves them with much to hold onto.

As I reviewed this week's lesson, I just didn't feel good about what was in my manual.  It just felt cheesy and boring.  So I decided that since my "full" group would be there (we range from 2-10 on any given week) and we had six Q&As to get through, we would break into pairs and rewrite them.  I challenged the students to read the verses that went with the answers and then rewrite the answers in a more personal way.  We did Q&A 46 together.  Then I gave each pair Q&A 47-50.  I took Q&A 51 on my own, because we had only eight students.  I knew that what they could come up with could be huge, and I hoped they knew that too.  I was asking them to read scripture, think critically about how it applied to this question and to their lives, and then share it with everyone else.

They amazed me.

They shouldn't have, because I knew they could do it.  But they did.  And I'm so proud of what they shared.  I wish I'd recorded it.

Thought #4
As I said, I took Q&A 51.  We're nearly finished with the Apostles Creed portion of the Catechism, and these six Q&As are all about the ascended Christ sitting at the right hand of God.  The questions range from how is that possible to what it might mean for us.  I didn't mean to be so convicted by the one I "randomly" received from God.  As restated by me:

Q. How does this glory of Christ our head benefit us?
A. Christ has now been restored to full communion with God and the Holy Spirit, pouring the Holy Spirit's gifts out on us.  I, personally, have the gifts--and the personality--I have directly from the Spirit in order that I might use them to build up the body. 

Also, by sitting at the right hand of God, Christ has the full army of God ready and willing to do all that He commands.  Because He is with the father who created me and loves me, He will let nothing destroy me.

I've been thinking a lot lately about how God has gifted me and the personality that He has given me.  I have a passion to strengthen others--to build up the weak with encouragement and to challenge the strong with truth.  Could it possibly be that God has given that passion and the gifts to live out that passion?

Thought #5
This thought came today, while I was writing out my "random" thoughts.  I chuckle almost every time I use the word "random," because I don't believe for one second that God is a God of random happenstance.  I believe that God is a God of providential circumstance.  And because I've seen it often enough to know it's true, I sort of knew He would tie my random thoughts together as I wrote--at least as they apply to me. 

• The only way that we can be ourselves, who we have been created to be and living out the gifts God has uniquely given to us, is when we are connected to the body.
• "The only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love."
• I knew that what they could come up with could be huge, and I hoped they knew that too. I was asking them to read scripture, think critically about how it applied to this question and to their lives, and then share it with everyone else.
• I, personally, have the gifts--and the personality--I have directly from the Spirit in order that I might use them to build up the body.

My connection to the Body of Christ is essential, both in His figurative body and in the literal body of believers.  I will be worthless without that Body, because I have been uniquely gifted as Rebekah Marie (Bierenga) McDowell to do Beka things.  If I cut myself off, then I cut myself off to death.  And even more than that, if I cut myself off or refuse to do the Beka things that God created me to do, then I deprive the Body of what it needs to live out God's call for it.

This ended up longer than I thought it would be, so thanks for hanging with me on my rabbit trail.  I'm starting to wonder if any of it tied together for anyone but me.  Oh, well.  We always reach a conclusion; it just doesn't always resemble anything close to where we started or where we thought we'd end.  And it generally leads us to the beginning of another journey that we never expected but always sort of hoped was waiting for us.  That's where I'm standing today.  And, as my DearWriterFriend (DearPublisherFriend?) likes to say, "We are living the epilogue."  Thanks for sitting in on this page of mine.

Tie a Yellow Ribbon

This morning at the gym I wore my Team Mitchell t-shirt from last summer's Miles for Hope.  I ran walked for Mitchell, the son of high school friend's.  While Miles for Hope is about funds to research a cure for brain tumors, our t-shirts, designed by Mitchell's mom, incorporated the colors for brain tumor awareness and pediatric brain tumor awareness.

As I was walking from the treadmill to the weights, a woman stopped me, gestured to my shirt, and said, "I'm trying to figure out what the cure is for."  When I told her, she said, "That's very cool."

Today is also the day that Beau's cousin Chelsea was told to wear blue to school in order to stop bullying.  Because she's a snarky teenager, she announced that on Facebook and then wrote, "Is that because bullies are afraid of the color blue?"  I laughed out loud.

Those two questions--what's that for, and are they afraid of that color--sent me thinking.  Pink = October, which is breast cancer awareness month.  Red = HIV/AIDS awareness.  Blue = Child Abuse Awareness Month (April).  Yellow = Brain Tumor Awareness and, because of a song years ago, signifies that you are waiting for a loved one to return home.  The puzzle piece ribbon = Autism Awareness.  I'm sure that all of these colors also mean something different, as I remember tying a blue ribbon on my antenna in honor of the horrors at Columbine and Chelsea is supposed to wear blue to stop bullying.

So what do these colors mean?  Are they just the trendy way to pretend to stand for something?  I'm confident that the bullies aren't afraid of the color blue, but I wonder if they came to school and saw everyone wearing blue if they would change the way that they treat other people.  Because they'd see the solidarity.  And I wonder if the woman I saw today thinks about brain tumors differently because she saw my shirt. 

Mostly I wonder if more people are aware of anything because of all the ribbons we wear or if people are just confused by the colors.  When people first started wearing red ribbons, it was a statement.  It was a statement of support and solidarity and commitment that on my watch something was going to change.  I wasn't going to be silent about a disease that shouldn't be destroying our families.  But now, when you see a ribbon, do you even wonder what it's for?  When you put on a ribbon, or a color, do you even remember what it's for? 

There are a million causes in the world, and I'm quite certain that many of them have a color to go with them.  The question I need to ask myself is which one is mine?  And am I doing more than wearing a ribbon?

"At a certain point, I just felt, you know, God is not looking for alms, God is looking for action." Bono