Good Morning Blog-readers!
I woke up all excited about the CHWC pool party this evening. My mind was flying around with my "to do" list, and memories of different things and people from the trip, and a buzz of overall excitement. I heard the "reasonable grown-up voice" inside my head say, "Now, calm down. There's no need to get all hyped up about it." But then I stopped myself.
One of the benefits (and sometimes, it's also the hardest part) of being me is that my emotions run high. When I'm sad, my heart breaks. When I'm happy, my heart soars with joy. I feel with my whole self. Sometimes I struggle for balance with my emotions. I'll get stuck in one feeling or another, and feel helpless to get back to good. However, we spent all of last week learning how to live uncovered, and be true to who we were made to be, and that wasn't just talk for me.
So...I'm very excited today. I'm excited to spend time with the kids from Catholic Heart WorkCamp and their families. I'm deliriously happy with the way my freshly painted kitchen wall and cabinets look! I'm hyped up about the prospect of being with my kids for the rest of this month before school starts.
Sorry, "grown-up, stuffy, keep-it-in-check voice", you need to hush. Today I will be who I am and how I am. Happiness doesn't need to be reeled in and concealed. I will be me, unashamed, unapologetic, just me. I will experience this world happily today. I will be me with all my warts and quirks, and glorious weirdness. I will embrace this day and gather up all the blessings available in it!
Be you today, and be blessed by it!
Friday, August 5, 2011
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
What I learned at Summer Camp.
Most kids have to write a paper of some sort about what they did over the summer, and I consider myself no different. I had the distinct honor last week to attend Catholic Heart Work Camp in St. Louis, MO. I didn't go alone, I was accompanied by 17 teens, my brother Joe, my brother-in-law Hugh, and my new friend, Tim (the brave young man who has worked as the Youth Minister for all of 2 weeks before leaving on this journey with us.) With company like that, how could anyone be nervous, right? Yeah, if you read my blog regularly, you know what a big nervous baby I am, no matter how brave I try to look.
The theme of the entire week was "Live Uncovered". Which, of course, means, being true to who you are. All the time. Even when you are unsure if your body can withstand working in 104 degree weather. Even when you are uncertain about whether people will like you when you are being yourself. Even when you would really like to square dance in the aisles during program. Even when your heart is so filled with love and concern for the girls in your work group that you spend a few days on the verge of tears. Living uncovered, for me, means letting my tears flow. Unashamed, they flowed down my face during Mass, during program, even when it was time to share in our groups. It's who I am. It's how I'm made, and I embrace it. (Maybe I should buy stock in the Kleenex company.)
I was given the best work crew, and I was blessed to work (and bond) with these amazing young ladies from all over. My group was all under 18, and some of the strongest people I've ever met. I pray they can boldly charge into the futures, taking courage in the fact that they are way ahead of their peers because they have experienced this week. If they can keep in their hearts the message that it's not only "OK" to be yourself, but "crucial" to be yourself, they will live happy lives. God only made one copy of each of us. No one else is endowed with the same gifts. The world would be missing out if we refuse to use the gifts we are given. This week, these girls gave the gifts of scraping paint, and weeding, and cleaning sticks out of gutters. We discovered that social networking could benefit from the invention of a "Sarcasm" font that "exudes eye-rolling and excessive Sass." We also discovered that we worked well with others, when we joined with Group 29 on the last 2 days.
It was so amazing to me how quickly we went from 7 people who had never met to feeling like sisters. It was like the light of God's love that we each had inside came together, making a huge spiritual fire that gave us the strength to burn away the parts that were not "us". It gave one girl the ability to soften another leader's heart, and give him the freedom to talk about his triplet daughters. It gave another the courage to be her honest self with me, allowing me the chance to see her perspective on life, whether we agree or not. It gave others the security to be real and honest with their fears and questions, and to know they were loved and would not be judged because of their questioning. It made me feel safe and cared for, and that I wasn't the odd one out, but rather, another sister-friend in the group.
I sweated more than I ever have in my whole life. I actually drenched clothes in my own sweat. I could barely lift my arms after the first day. I say that, because I keep hearing the same words from the Mass (which are from the Last Supper.) "This is my body which will be given up for you." I'm here to live my life as Jesus did. I offered to be his follower. So....."This is MY body, which I have given up for you." Last week I gave up my body for His people in St. Louis. I gave up sleeping in a bed to do his work with a group of girls from Minnesota and Illinois, Massachusetts and Wisconsin. I gave up my body's sweat to help a lady who had knee replacement and couldn't paint her garage, and faced another citation from the city. I danced this broken down, weak old body half silly with praise of my maker. I gave my body to a conga line of teens singing to God's Glory. I dragged my tired achy bones out of the bedroll at 5 am to get a shower before doing it all again. Day after day after glorious day. All because He gave up HIS beautiful, perfect, beloved body for me. Just so I could have this life. So I could live, Uncovered. In St. Louis, and beyond.
My body is recovering. My heart was broken and blessed and shared. Now it's time for me to go live uncovered. Won't you let the world be blessed by the real you?
Blessings!
The theme of the entire week was "Live Uncovered". Which, of course, means, being true to who you are. All the time. Even when you are unsure if your body can withstand working in 104 degree weather. Even when you are uncertain about whether people will like you when you are being yourself. Even when you would really like to square dance in the aisles during program. Even when your heart is so filled with love and concern for the girls in your work group that you spend a few days on the verge of tears. Living uncovered, for me, means letting my tears flow. Unashamed, they flowed down my face during Mass, during program, even when it was time to share in our groups. It's who I am. It's how I'm made, and I embrace it. (Maybe I should buy stock in the Kleenex company.)
I was given the best work crew, and I was blessed to work (and bond) with these amazing young ladies from all over. My group was all under 18, and some of the strongest people I've ever met. I pray they can boldly charge into the futures, taking courage in the fact that they are way ahead of their peers because they have experienced this week. If they can keep in their hearts the message that it's not only "OK" to be yourself, but "crucial" to be yourself, they will live happy lives. God only made one copy of each of us. No one else is endowed with the same gifts. The world would be missing out if we refuse to use the gifts we are given. This week, these girls gave the gifts of scraping paint, and weeding, and cleaning sticks out of gutters. We discovered that social networking could benefit from the invention of a "Sarcasm" font that "exudes eye-rolling and excessive Sass." We also discovered that we worked well with others, when we joined with Group 29 on the last 2 days.
It was so amazing to me how quickly we went from 7 people who had never met to feeling like sisters. It was like the light of God's love that we each had inside came together, making a huge spiritual fire that gave us the strength to burn away the parts that were not "us". It gave one girl the ability to soften another leader's heart, and give him the freedom to talk about his triplet daughters. It gave another the courage to be her honest self with me, allowing me the chance to see her perspective on life, whether we agree or not. It gave others the security to be real and honest with their fears and questions, and to know they were loved and would not be judged because of their questioning. It made me feel safe and cared for, and that I wasn't the odd one out, but rather, another sister-friend in the group.
I sweated more than I ever have in my whole life. I actually drenched clothes in my own sweat. I could barely lift my arms after the first day. I say that, because I keep hearing the same words from the Mass (which are from the Last Supper.) "This is my body which will be given up for you." I'm here to live my life as Jesus did. I offered to be his follower. So....."This is MY body, which I have given up for you." Last week I gave up my body for His people in St. Louis. I gave up sleeping in a bed to do his work with a group of girls from Minnesota and Illinois, Massachusetts and Wisconsin. I gave up my body's sweat to help a lady who had knee replacement and couldn't paint her garage, and faced another citation from the city. I danced this broken down, weak old body half silly with praise of my maker. I gave my body to a conga line of teens singing to God's Glory. I dragged my tired achy bones out of the bedroll at 5 am to get a shower before doing it all again. Day after day after glorious day. All because He gave up HIS beautiful, perfect, beloved body for me. Just so I could have this life. So I could live, Uncovered. In St. Louis, and beyond.
My body is recovering. My heart was broken and blessed and shared. Now it's time for me to go live uncovered. Won't you let the world be blessed by the real you?
Blessings!
Thursday, July 14, 2011
The "smacked with a rubber fish" story.
(The beginning of this blog is written as if I am inside Harriett's thoughts. She may or may not think this way, but I WAS an 11-year old once, and I distinctly remember feeling this way about my brother, and life in general.)
"My brother is such a jerk! We're in the pool, having a perfectly good time, and he smacks me in the face with a rubber fish! What a JERK! THEN he doesn't even say I'm sorry or anything, he just walks away like it's no big deal! NO BIG DEAL? Hello? I just got hit in the face with a rubber fish here! So then Mom picks us up and she's all "So, how'd it go?" and I tell her about the fish and him hitting me and she says maybe it was an accident. Yeah, Mom. He "Accidentally" hit me in the face with a rubber fish. So she makes him apologize and he's like, "I...AM...SORRY!" But he doesn't say it like he means it, so I don't forgive him and Mom gets all mad talking about forgiving people like we want to be forgiven, but he said it like he thinks it's funny that I got hit in the face with a rubber fish, so I'm not forgiving him, even if I have to sit here and talk to NO ONE the whole way home. I'm not accepting his apology until he says it politely, and like he means it, and so I know he's really sorry."
Hmmm. Sometimes it's not easy being the mother of a jerk who would hit his sister with a rubber fish, and a sister who won't forgive him until he means it. But this is the job I signed on for when I chose to breed.
In retrospect, I stick to the story of forgiving people the way we want to be forgiven, but there is something more here that was given to me to learn today. Isaac told his side of the story over and over to Harriett, and she never heard the apology in it, but it was there. (She doesn't speak teen boy yet.) Every time he emphasized the "I didn't mean to hit you" part of the story. He was trying to splash her, and got too close. She didn't hear the "I love you and was just playing with you and got too close with the rubber fish" part of the story because she was too hurt and too mad. I do that all the time. I don't hear the thought behind the words, I only hear the tone they are said in.
Then she did the meanest sibling trick EVER! She held her forgiveness HOSTAGE! He wanted to be forgiven because he's really not a jerk, he just has bad depth perception with his glasses off. But, Oh NO! She will NOT forgive him, because he's a jerk that hit her with a rubber fish. She's holding onto the pain and humiliation of that experience. She's holding it more dear to her than the relationship with her brother. She can take it out and beat him with it when she needs to because she just won't let it go. I discovered I'm doing the same thing. This exact same thing I'm trying to teach my daughter, God is trying to teach me!
God didn't hit me with a rubber fish. He allowed me to have a cardiac arrest. He tells me he loves me all the time. He tells me, lovingly, why I'm still here. He shows me good things, and tries to show his care for me everywhere I turn, but I just keep holding on to this stupid "rubber fish smack in the face" situation. God doesn't require my forgiveness, but I need to forgive him, or I'm no different than my angry children. I forgive you, Father. I know you had your reasons, and I don't fully understand them, but I'm ready to let go of this anger and hurt inside, and forgive. Whew.
Are you holding on to some "smack with a rubber fish" situation? Forgive already! Let go of the anger, you'll be amazed at how much energy it frees up. Don't let your heart be all caved in like a wrinkly dried up apple that's sat in the sun too long! Let the love in! Tell your sister (friend, child, husband, maker, etc) that you are sorry, and mean it. Then love them.
And try not to smack people with a rubber fish.
"My brother is such a jerk! We're in the pool, having a perfectly good time, and he smacks me in the face with a rubber fish! What a JERK! THEN he doesn't even say I'm sorry or anything, he just walks away like it's no big deal! NO BIG DEAL? Hello? I just got hit in the face with a rubber fish here! So then Mom picks us up and she's all "So, how'd it go?" and I tell her about the fish and him hitting me and she says maybe it was an accident. Yeah, Mom. He "Accidentally" hit me in the face with a rubber fish. So she makes him apologize and he's like, "I...AM...SORRY!" But he doesn't say it like he means it, so I don't forgive him and Mom gets all mad talking about forgiving people like we want to be forgiven, but he said it like he thinks it's funny that I got hit in the face with a rubber fish, so I'm not forgiving him, even if I have to sit here and talk to NO ONE the whole way home. I'm not accepting his apology until he says it politely, and like he means it, and so I know he's really sorry."
Hmmm. Sometimes it's not easy being the mother of a jerk who would hit his sister with a rubber fish, and a sister who won't forgive him until he means it. But this is the job I signed on for when I chose to breed.
In retrospect, I stick to the story of forgiving people the way we want to be forgiven, but there is something more here that was given to me to learn today. Isaac told his side of the story over and over to Harriett, and she never heard the apology in it, but it was there. (She doesn't speak teen boy yet.) Every time he emphasized the "I didn't mean to hit you" part of the story. He was trying to splash her, and got too close. She didn't hear the "I love you and was just playing with you and got too close with the rubber fish" part of the story because she was too hurt and too mad. I do that all the time. I don't hear the thought behind the words, I only hear the tone they are said in.
Then she did the meanest sibling trick EVER! She held her forgiveness HOSTAGE! He wanted to be forgiven because he's really not a jerk, he just has bad depth perception with his glasses off. But, Oh NO! She will NOT forgive him, because he's a jerk that hit her with a rubber fish. She's holding onto the pain and humiliation of that experience. She's holding it more dear to her than the relationship with her brother. She can take it out and beat him with it when she needs to because she just won't let it go. I discovered I'm doing the same thing. This exact same thing I'm trying to teach my daughter, God is trying to teach me!
God didn't hit me with a rubber fish. He allowed me to have a cardiac arrest. He tells me he loves me all the time. He tells me, lovingly, why I'm still here. He shows me good things, and tries to show his care for me everywhere I turn, but I just keep holding on to this stupid "rubber fish smack in the face" situation. God doesn't require my forgiveness, but I need to forgive him, or I'm no different than my angry children. I forgive you, Father. I know you had your reasons, and I don't fully understand them, but I'm ready to let go of this anger and hurt inside, and forgive. Whew.
Are you holding on to some "smack with a rubber fish" situation? Forgive already! Let go of the anger, you'll be amazed at how much energy it frees up. Don't let your heart be all caved in like a wrinkly dried up apple that's sat in the sun too long! Let the love in! Tell your sister (friend, child, husband, maker, etc) that you are sorry, and mean it. Then love them.
And try not to smack people with a rubber fish.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
My Reflection
I woke up this morning and looked around my room. Messy, very messy. Anyway, I looked around to the window where I could see a beautiful blue sky and the tips of my backyard trees swaying softly in the light breeze. As I panned my vision from left to right, I saw a mess, some laundry, some boxes of books I need to take care of, my full-length mirror, and my big dark brown dresser that holds most of my clothes (the ones not in the neat pile on my filing cabinet.) My attention kept being drawn back to the mirror. From the way it was sitting, it looked like an ill-devised addition to the dresser. The color was the same, but the angles were a little off.
As I sat in quiet conversation with my Maker (as I tend to do before I emerge from my bed.) He whispered to me, "You are the mirror today. What will you reflect?" Hmmm.
I don't think I'll waste my time reflecting the image of an inanimate object, like a dresser. That would get boring really fast. Plus, I'm trying to get over BEING an inanimate object. I'm working on being be more active. My thoughts turned to the window, where all of nature (especially some rather robust blue jays) are making a ruckus "singing" to me to get up and love the world! That would be awesome to reflect, and it's a great goal.
I don't want to reflect the mess that is my bedroom, however it's not my priority to clean it up right now, either. (Simon was promised a trip to the zoo!)
So what would happen if I just looked straight into the mirror this morning? What would I see? (Besides bedhead and an old T-shirt?) If I could hold a mirror to my heart, what would I see today?
I see fear and anxiety.
I'm not trying to, but it's there. Lurking. Just below the surface. You can't see it in my face, but just below, I'm about to cry. I'm really scared to get on the treadmill (or Dread-Mill) tomorrow and take this stress test. I can't really even say what it is I fear. Historically, I have had really bad experiences on dread-mills, and it makes me nervous to get on one. I'm not afraid of exercising, I do a little of that at a time, and I haven't had a problem so far. I think I'm afraid I'm going to have to admit (again) that I HAVE A HEART PROBLEM! It's not just going to clear up or go away. It's not a doctor's mistake. It's not something a Z-pack can cure. This is going to be forever! It's who I am now, and I Don't Like IT!
The whole reason for this test is to find out if my medications can make up for the weirdness of my heart. I'm trying to be optimistic, and go in there full of confidence with an attitude of "Okay, Let's DO this thing! Bring it ON!" But that's only how I feel on the outside. I'm trying to get there on the inside, too.
I'm the mirror. I get to choose what I reflect today.
I choose love and kindness. I choose to see (and reflect) the goodness in the people around me. I choose to not let the quirks of my body determine my mood and demeanor. I choose to give all my fears to my beloved Jesus, and keep giving it back to Him until I can walk up to that treadmill with the confidence that He's got this handled. Still not my will, but the will of my Maker.
I don't get on the treadmill until tomorrow, so I choose to see today, today!
You are the mirror, too! What will you reflect?
As I sat in quiet conversation with my Maker (as I tend to do before I emerge from my bed.) He whispered to me, "You are the mirror today. What will you reflect?" Hmmm.
I don't think I'll waste my time reflecting the image of an inanimate object, like a dresser. That would get boring really fast. Plus, I'm trying to get over BEING an inanimate object. I'm working on being be more active. My thoughts turned to the window, where all of nature (especially some rather robust blue jays) are making a ruckus "singing" to me to get up and love the world! That would be awesome to reflect, and it's a great goal.
I don't want to reflect the mess that is my bedroom, however it's not my priority to clean it up right now, either. (Simon was promised a trip to the zoo!)
So what would happen if I just looked straight into the mirror this morning? What would I see? (Besides bedhead and an old T-shirt?) If I could hold a mirror to my heart, what would I see today?
I see fear and anxiety.
I'm not trying to, but it's there. Lurking. Just below the surface. You can't see it in my face, but just below, I'm about to cry. I'm really scared to get on the treadmill (or Dread-Mill) tomorrow and take this stress test. I can't really even say what it is I fear. Historically, I have had really bad experiences on dread-mills, and it makes me nervous to get on one. I'm not afraid of exercising, I do a little of that at a time, and I haven't had a problem so far. I think I'm afraid I'm going to have to admit (again) that I HAVE A HEART PROBLEM! It's not just going to clear up or go away. It's not a doctor's mistake. It's not something a Z-pack can cure. This is going to be forever! It's who I am now, and I Don't Like IT!
The whole reason for this test is to find out if my medications can make up for the weirdness of my heart. I'm trying to be optimistic, and go in there full of confidence with an attitude of "Okay, Let's DO this thing! Bring it ON!" But that's only how I feel on the outside. I'm trying to get there on the inside, too.
I'm the mirror. I get to choose what I reflect today.
I choose love and kindness. I choose to see (and reflect) the goodness in the people around me. I choose to not let the quirks of my body determine my mood and demeanor. I choose to give all my fears to my beloved Jesus, and keep giving it back to Him until I can walk up to that treadmill with the confidence that He's got this handled. Still not my will, but the will of my Maker.
I don't get on the treadmill until tomorrow, so I choose to see today, today!
You are the mirror, too! What will you reflect?
Friday, July 8, 2011
In God We Trust?
There are so many worries and fears and concerns that we deal with every day, and so many of them are "little things". Things like "Did I cook enough hot dogs?" or "Should I water the raspberry plants tomorrow?" These things are not the things I'm talking about today.
Tonight I'm talking about those fears we keep deep in our hearts that polite people don't talk about in dinner party conversations. Have you ever been passing the hors d'ourves and asked someone "Do you think you'll wake up tomorrow?" RUDE! You'd never do that! Does anyone casually mention, perhaps while on the way to dinner and a show, "I'm afraid my child is making a monumentally bad decision, and I fear for their soul, and their physical safety?" No Way! These are the worries that we keep deep in our hearts. Fears of failure. Lack of control over situations and other people's choices. Of course, we know that we only get to choose our reactions to events and other people's choices. Still, we fear for those we love, and for ourselves.
I think it comes down to trust. I'm terrible with trust. I used to trust everyone, but those days have gone. I earned my "rectal smoke detector" and I can usually tell when someone's blowing smoke...well, you know. I used to trust my body. We are working on reconciliation, but when you feel you've been betrayed, it's hard to trust again. That's where I'm at tonight.
I'm ready to admit that I felt a bit betrayed when I had my cardiac arrest. It's very childish, and hard to explain, but I felt like my body turned on me. And as long as I'm being really REALLY honest, I felt a little like God did too. I know we're all good today, but I still have those days when I feel my soul cry out, "My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?" I was so confused when I was in the hospital. Why wouldn't He take me to Heaven? Why did this happen? What the heck is going on with this body that I have fed and nourished and exercised (and grew lots of babies in) and I've known my whole life? What's happening here? It's a whole new world, and I don't understand any of it!
I know that some of you reading this have your own heart-felt concerns tonight. When I pray about all of these things that weigh me down, and I ask "why", I get the only answer God ever gives me. "Because I love you." Why didn't I get to go to Heaven? "Because I love you, and your family needs you." Why don't I know what's wrong with my body? "Because I love you, and I'm still holding you close to my own Sacred Heart, and I have a plan, trust me." Why don't I know how to console my friends when they are in times of trouble? "Because I love you, and them. Just write, and trust, and Know that I am God, and I will give them peace."
Prince of Peace. Prince of Pardon and Mercy. Watch over us and hold us dear. Help me to place all my deepest cares and worries in Our Father's loving hands, and mean it when I say, "Jesus I trust in you."
Tonight I'm talking about those fears we keep deep in our hearts that polite people don't talk about in dinner party conversations. Have you ever been passing the hors d'ourves and asked someone "Do you think you'll wake up tomorrow?" RUDE! You'd never do that! Does anyone casually mention, perhaps while on the way to dinner and a show, "I'm afraid my child is making a monumentally bad decision, and I fear for their soul, and their physical safety?" No Way! These are the worries that we keep deep in our hearts. Fears of failure. Lack of control over situations and other people's choices. Of course, we know that we only get to choose our reactions to events and other people's choices. Still, we fear for those we love, and for ourselves.
I think it comes down to trust. I'm terrible with trust. I used to trust everyone, but those days have gone. I earned my "rectal smoke detector" and I can usually tell when someone's blowing smoke...well, you know. I used to trust my body. We are working on reconciliation, but when you feel you've been betrayed, it's hard to trust again. That's where I'm at tonight.
I'm ready to admit that I felt a bit betrayed when I had my cardiac arrest. It's very childish, and hard to explain, but I felt like my body turned on me. And as long as I'm being really REALLY honest, I felt a little like God did too. I know we're all good today, but I still have those days when I feel my soul cry out, "My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?" I was so confused when I was in the hospital. Why wouldn't He take me to Heaven? Why did this happen? What the heck is going on with this body that I have fed and nourished and exercised (and grew lots of babies in) and I've known my whole life? What's happening here? It's a whole new world, and I don't understand any of it!
I know that some of you reading this have your own heart-felt concerns tonight. When I pray about all of these things that weigh me down, and I ask "why", I get the only answer God ever gives me. "Because I love you." Why didn't I get to go to Heaven? "Because I love you, and your family needs you." Why don't I know what's wrong with my body? "Because I love you, and I'm still holding you close to my own Sacred Heart, and I have a plan, trust me." Why don't I know how to console my friends when they are in times of trouble? "Because I love you, and them. Just write, and trust, and Know that I am God, and I will give them peace."
Prince of Peace. Prince of Pardon and Mercy. Watch over us and hold us dear. Help me to place all my deepest cares and worries in Our Father's loving hands, and mean it when I say, "Jesus I trust in you."
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Barry Manilow, a Dirty Refrgerator, and Jesus
I am actually blogging this from Nazareth, from the guest room computer. I am in the midst of that fabulous week known to many as Companions in Mission when I get to spend the week serving the dear neighbor and spending time with my beloved Companions and my Sister Friends at the Congregation of St. Joseph.
Today was our first day of serving our "dear neighbor" in the mission fields of Kalamazoo Michigan. Two companions and I went to the Kalamazoo Gospel Mission to work today, fully expecting to feed the hungry and see the face of Jesus in the poor and hungry down-trodden folks in Kalamazoo. When we got toe the Gospel Mission, we were greeted warmly, and set to work...cleaning out huge refrigerators. "I need you to take everything out of here and detail the entire thing, both of them." Our guide instructed. She got us buckets of sanitizer/detergent, rags, and turned us loose on the fridges. These fridges are the size of the coolers that hold pop in convenience stores, and were full of dairy products and donated desserts.
So I start moving stuff around and pulling out shelves and cleaning up this fridge, and my mind starts to think,"What? Really? I'm cleaning a fridge? How is this serving the poor? How is this helping? I'm supposed to feed the poor! I'm supposed to see the face of Jesus in the poor and down-trodden! There are no poor folks in the fridge, only a ridiculous amount of sweet rolls! I'm totally cleaning a giant fridge!"
And then I heard the song start in my head..."when will our eyes meet..." I think it's Barry Manilow. "...when will I touch you...when will this strong yearning end?" Yep, it's Barry Manilow. I'm cleaning a fridge at the mission, and the soundtrack God has given me is Barry Manilow. "And when will I hold you....again?" The song kept going, over and over until I realized that God was trying to tell me something.
I need to clean my refrigerator.
Before I can help anyone else, I need to clean my refrigerator. I need to clean out the gunk that has spilled on my own shelves. I need to mop up the spoiled milk of my own hurt feelings and disappointments before I can serve anyone else any good and nutritious food. I need to empty my inner shelves full of sweet fluff with no nutritious value, and reorganize them into an orderly, clean, healthy state of mind, body and spirit.
Once I figured this out and started cleaning with a higher purpose, I started really listening to the words that Jesus sang to me (with Barry Manilow's voice). "When will our eyes meet? When can I touch you? When can this strong yearning end?" Does Jesus miss me? It's been awhile since I've really been attentive to Him in my life. I mean like totally present and aware of His love for me. Is he as anxious for me to get my fridge cleaned as I am to see His face in the people of Kalamazoo?
The last line draws my tears. "When will I hold you again?" I know Barry Manilow was writing this love song about another person, but when I was without a pulse, it was like being held and loved like a newborn baby. Loved and held and rocked by one who loved me perfectly and wholly. "When will I hold you again?"
Cleaning out the fridge with this new perspective was transforming! I started talking to the people who were working around me. Not because they were needy and I came to help them, but because I was needy, and trying to find love. Barry Manilow made me hunger for physical contact with Jesus, and as soon as I started looking around, I saw he was everywhere.
So, today was the day our eyes met! Today I touched you! This long yearning for you will NEVER end!
But when will I hold you....again......?
Today was our first day of serving our "dear neighbor" in the mission fields of Kalamazoo Michigan. Two companions and I went to the Kalamazoo Gospel Mission to work today, fully expecting to feed the hungry and see the face of Jesus in the poor and hungry down-trodden folks in Kalamazoo. When we got toe the Gospel Mission, we were greeted warmly, and set to work...cleaning out huge refrigerators. "I need you to take everything out of here and detail the entire thing, both of them." Our guide instructed. She got us buckets of sanitizer/detergent, rags, and turned us loose on the fridges. These fridges are the size of the coolers that hold pop in convenience stores, and were full of dairy products and donated desserts.
So I start moving stuff around and pulling out shelves and cleaning up this fridge, and my mind starts to think,"What? Really? I'm cleaning a fridge? How is this serving the poor? How is this helping? I'm supposed to feed the poor! I'm supposed to see the face of Jesus in the poor and down-trodden! There are no poor folks in the fridge, only a ridiculous amount of sweet rolls! I'm totally cleaning a giant fridge!"
And then I heard the song start in my head..."when will our eyes meet..." I think it's Barry Manilow. "...when will I touch you...when will this strong yearning end?" Yep, it's Barry Manilow. I'm cleaning a fridge at the mission, and the soundtrack God has given me is Barry Manilow. "And when will I hold you....again?" The song kept going, over and over until I realized that God was trying to tell me something.
I need to clean my refrigerator.
Before I can help anyone else, I need to clean my refrigerator. I need to clean out the gunk that has spilled on my own shelves. I need to mop up the spoiled milk of my own hurt feelings and disappointments before I can serve anyone else any good and nutritious food. I need to empty my inner shelves full of sweet fluff with no nutritious value, and reorganize them into an orderly, clean, healthy state of mind, body and spirit.
Once I figured this out and started cleaning with a higher purpose, I started really listening to the words that Jesus sang to me (with Barry Manilow's voice). "When will our eyes meet? When can I touch you? When can this strong yearning end?" Does Jesus miss me? It's been awhile since I've really been attentive to Him in my life. I mean like totally present and aware of His love for me. Is he as anxious for me to get my fridge cleaned as I am to see His face in the people of Kalamazoo?
The last line draws my tears. "When will I hold you again?" I know Barry Manilow was writing this love song about another person, but when I was without a pulse, it was like being held and loved like a newborn baby. Loved and held and rocked by one who loved me perfectly and wholly. "When will I hold you again?"
Cleaning out the fridge with this new perspective was transforming! I started talking to the people who were working around me. Not because they were needy and I came to help them, but because I was needy, and trying to find love. Barry Manilow made me hunger for physical contact with Jesus, and as soon as I started looking around, I saw he was everywhere.
So, today was the day our eyes met! Today I touched you! This long yearning for you will NEVER end!
But when will I hold you....again......?
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Doomed Dogs
Doomed. That's a strong word, but accurate. We went to look for a dog to adopt at Kalamazoo County Animal Control and saw the death row of dogs. It broke my heart, really. We saw 2 potential Swager-dogs, and at least 8 that will never again see the light of day, unless they euthanize them outside.
Simon and Sylvia were totally freaked out by the loud barking of these poor beasts, made worse by the closeness in the rooms. Cage after cage had signs on the door that read "Caution", "I Bite", and "Do not Open". There were sweet dogs mixed in with these poor creatures, barking out their protests, "I'm a good pup, I'm not a biter!" But I was drawn to the eyes of the sad, wild beasts with the warning signs, mostly pit bulls.
They weren't born mean, these American Pit Bull Terriers. They weren't bred to be beasts of terror that shred small children and attack with such ferocity that their kind is being outlawed in our state. The United Kennel Club registers these animals, and proper trainers show their sweet kind natures and their willingness to please their owner at dog shows around the nation. Sadly, it is exactly this willingness to please that lands them here...on dog death row. They aim to please their owners. When their owners teach them to attack, they do, eager to bring a smile to that twisted owners face. When their owners beat them so they'll snarl and show their aggression, they comply, anxiously awaiting a "good dog" or a milk bone. When they are neglected and mistreated, it only makes sense that they will attack...they are starving and have only an animal instinct to survive to go on! No one took the time to teach them the right way to behave.
So these beautiful animals will die. It is too late for them. They didn't have the good fortune to be born a Maltese or a Labradoodle. They weren't someones beloved Pookie. They were treated like they had no value. Just a piece of meat... a very muscular burglar alarm. I looked into their eyes and saw their fear, and I have no comfort to offer them. Not even a pat on the head. Even the ones that are well socialized will soon be illegal in the State of Michigan. Why? Because any fool can own a dog, and lots of them do.
When we do choose our new family member, I hope I will remember these other animals. I hope I remember to treat MY beloved Pookie (or Pepper, or Candy) with the respect that they deserve.
Simon and Sylvia were totally freaked out by the loud barking of these poor beasts, made worse by the closeness in the rooms. Cage after cage had signs on the door that read "Caution", "I Bite", and "Do not Open". There were sweet dogs mixed in with these poor creatures, barking out their protests, "I'm a good pup, I'm not a biter!" But I was drawn to the eyes of the sad, wild beasts with the warning signs, mostly pit bulls.
They weren't born mean, these American Pit Bull Terriers. They weren't bred to be beasts of terror that shred small children and attack with such ferocity that their kind is being outlawed in our state. The United Kennel Club registers these animals, and proper trainers show their sweet kind natures and their willingness to please their owner at dog shows around the nation. Sadly, it is exactly this willingness to please that lands them here...on dog death row. They aim to please their owners. When their owners teach them to attack, they do, eager to bring a smile to that twisted owners face. When their owners beat them so they'll snarl and show their aggression, they comply, anxiously awaiting a "good dog" or a milk bone. When they are neglected and mistreated, it only makes sense that they will attack...they are starving and have only an animal instinct to survive to go on! No one took the time to teach them the right way to behave.
So these beautiful animals will die. It is too late for them. They didn't have the good fortune to be born a Maltese or a Labradoodle. They weren't someones beloved Pookie. They were treated like they had no value. Just a piece of meat... a very muscular burglar alarm. I looked into their eyes and saw their fear, and I have no comfort to offer them. Not even a pat on the head. Even the ones that are well socialized will soon be illegal in the State of Michigan. Why? Because any fool can own a dog, and lots of them do.
When we do choose our new family member, I hope I will remember these other animals. I hope I remember to treat MY beloved Pookie (or Pepper, or Candy) with the respect that they deserve.
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