punctuation marks from hell

Sometimes, I like to blame things on my period.

It's easier that admitting that sometimes I just want what I want and then folding my arms, sticking out my bottom lip, and pouting in the corner.

My mom was supposed to come up this weekend for the first time since Lilah was born. Instead, she's going three hours further away from me to see my nephew be born.

Knowing she isn't going to be here, and knowing that I'm not going to be with my sister makes me cry like a baby.

It will never stop hurting that I don't get to live near my family. No matter if I understand it or not.

sometimes it makes sense

Four and a half years ago when I moved to Metro Detroit, it was very begrudgingly.

I made a deal with God that Jon and I would move back to Indiana in one year, at most.

I didn't even change my cell phone number.

Year one came and went, and the opportunity to return home didn't present itself. No matter how hard we tried to force it.

By the end of year two, we had Lilah, and we were still fighting tooth-and-nail to get back to the Hoosier state. Jon had three companies interview him, fall in love with him, promise him the world, and then slowly disappear from the radar. It was almost science fiction the way that each company independent of one another simply cut off all conversations with us, one even after paying Jon close to five hundred dollars in traveling expenses.

We (I) reluctantly (kicking, screaming, and cursing) gave up and made our home here.

But Jon wasn't happy with his job. It constantly took him away from Lilah and me, sometimes a month at a time. He kept talking with his company about transferring departments, but there was no place for him to go.

Two years later...

Elkhart, the place we were trying so hard to return to, has the highest unemployment rate in the country. It is the RV capital of the entire world, and for a trillion reasons, no one is buying mobile homes at the moment. The scene in my home town is pretty dismal. Obama has been there twice in mere months to address its economy.

Also...

Jon, although in the auto industry, has been mostly spared from all of the fallout in recent months. He was promoted from his former position and placed into a new one... One which as of a few weeks ago has absorbed so much work into it that they will have to hire more help.

At the same time...

We have always rented apartments since we got married. We talked about buying a condo a few years ago, but we wanted to mobility if ever we got to go back to Indiana. When our lease is up this year, we will have enough to put down on a house. A house, which thanks to the current financial situation in America, we could have never afforded before.

I don't know why we have been spared extreme hardship during this bleak time. It is most certainly not because we have deserved it, earned it, or been faithful enough to "achieve" it.

It is so completely fall-on-my-knees humbling though, that most times, I can hardly take it.

I think back to all those tearful nights when I poured my heart out to God about why I didn't understand why he wouldn't let me go back home. I remember the pain, the mourning I went through (and still do to some extent) in being away from my family, my home.

And all that time, I couldn't hear God's small voice telling me to trust Him. That His plan was better than mine. That someday, I might see that he was protecting my new little family from great hardship.

Not that hardship is only a consequence of disobedience - no! I would say, more often, it's a natural wordly consequence of being obedient. But in this case, when I reflect upon all that has transpired in the past few years... I see God's fingerprints all over all of it.

And I just simply couldn't have before. I knew they were there, but I couldn't see them amidst all of my anger, pain, and sadness.

I know that many people are currently in the thick of where we were a few years ago. I hope that my little story might encourage them to be faithful in these times.

He knows what He's doing.

the idea of empire

I finished reading Rob Bell's Jesus Wants to Save Christians, and I'm pretty sure I read it too fast and too much of it went over my head. That's my disclaimer if you have also read this and think I missed the point.

The missing of points is also a theme in the book. Evidently, lots of Christians do this all the time, so at least I'm in good company being off the mark.

But this is what I've taken away from the book...

Part of the book discusses pre-exodus Egypt in a frighteningly familiar way. I know I'm going to over-simplify the already overly simplified story of the Jews exodus from Egypt, so if you are a biblical scholar, forgive me.

The Jews were oppressed in slavery in Egypt, and they cried out to God. God heard these cries and freed them from their oppression. Almost immediately afterwards, they forget who has freed them and begin worshipping idols. God shakes them up with the Ten Commandments. He makes a covenant with them about the importance of not being oppressors and stock-piling weapons and becoming an agressive military state. Then He sends them on their way to the promise land, where a few generations later, they (under Solomon) are a huge military power with lots of weapons and are using slaves to build- get this - the temple.

Slaves are building the church.

I can't help but think back to my elementary school history books. About the Pilgrims setting off to a new land to obtain freedom from the oppression of England. And about how in the process, we inflicted a genocide on the native people already living in that new land.

But wait... that isn't how the history books told it, was it?

We were the good guys. We were the ones conquering the enemy. Fighting in retaliation against a godless, aggressive people.

Right?

And we've been the good guys, every time since. Our intentions have always been pure. We've never invaded or attacked out of selfish motives.

Right?

When September 11th happened, I couldn't believe that anyone in the world would want to hurt innocent people... Innocent Americans in that way.

I couldn't believe it because I always got As in my history classes.

I feel like I've spent much of my adult life unlearning what I was taught in my youth.

I have a feeling I concluded a lot of what Bell was leading me to conclude with his book. America is the new Egypt. We are also the new Solomon's Kingdom. And as history continues to repeat itself, so goes America.

I just don't know what I'm supposed to do about it.

How do we break the cycle? Is it too late for us?

Are fear and greed to powerful a force for even a "Christian" nation to avoid their pitfalls?

This book is not a doomsday novel. It's not a discussion of the end times. It's a "manifesto for a church in exile." And for that purpose, I think it's an excellent read. I need to read it again.

I just wish it had a happy ending.

new year renewal

Over the holiday break, I spent a lot of time reading.

First, I polished off Stuff White People Like. I have yet to take the quiz, but I have found that as far as Caucasians go, I'm pretty honky.

Next, I read 20 and Counting which is the how-to/memoir published by the Duggar family who just welcomed their 18th child on December 18th.

And finally, I'm about 25 pages away from finishing Rob Bell's Jesus Wants to Save Christians.

You may look at these three titles and think that they are in no way connected, but they are.

Or maybe they aren't, but the messages I'm suppose to be taking away from them are.

This new year brings with it lots of forks in the road for my little family, and perhaps it's those issues that are already weighing on my mind as I go into reading that end up highlighting the same conclusions.

I definitely need to process each of these books separately if I'm going to be fair in reviewing them. However, as a result of all three in combo with what's coming up in life... here's what I'm thinking about.

1.) As much as I don't want to live in Elkhart, I had a hard time leaving. I can't help but whine about the unfairness of living so far from my family while at the same time understanding it. With so many people leaving Detroit these days, many of whom are going against their will, God continues to reaffirm that we are to be here.

2.) I'm dealing with a lot of conviction in the amount of quality time I spend with my family. This is going to mean less blogging. I'm okay with that.

3.) We need to be more intentional about every single dollar we spend this year. We need to save while at the same time helping those who need it. This will require some lifestyle changes which I'm prayerfully preparing for. That doesn't mean it's not going to be rough.

4.) This fall will probably mean a move for us. We have a lot to learn about housing between now and then. Discernment will be key.

5.) There are relationships in my life which are toxic and I need to gracefully bow out of them while not letting the remaining scar tissue prevent me from being open to new friendships.

6.) My eyes and ears are opened to new opportunities. In lots of areas. I don't have any clue what this preludes, but I feel strongly that it's something significant.

These are not really resolutions because they aren't goals I'm trying to accomplish. These are more like new mandates that have arisen as a result of what we believe is meant for the next season of our lives.

Endings are difficult for me. And so are beginnings. Probably because endings are usually follwed by beginnings.

I'm good with being in the middle somewhere. Hopefully I've got some more clarity by March.

they wouldn't believe me anyway

The other day I was walking out of my church and a woman asked me my name.

When I told her, she said, "I remember the talk you gave."

She is referring to two years ago when I was asked/allowed to address our congregation about my personal experience with homosexuals.

And while I don't consider this a "subject" I could ever be an "expert" in, my story seems to be one which interests people when they are struggling with their own story.

This woman proceeds to tell me that she has always wanted to talk to me about a member of her family. This particular person in question is an adolescent, and this woman was worried about her.

"She really hates the color pink." This woman tells me emphatically. Then she stopped, as if waiting for me to diagnose this unseen third party with my conclusions.

"Okay..." I responded and waited for her to continue.

"Well, she just really hates girly stuff, and I don't like to foster that."

Hmmm.

Hmmm?

What am I suppose to say to this? I mean, it seems pretty obvious to me that having an aversion to a color doesn't result in preferring sexual relations with someone of your own physical gender, but then hey... maybe I'm more progressive than most. I don't like to make assumptions about what's obvious and what isn't.

"Well, I was sort of a tomboy when I was younger. I preferred blue over pink. I'm not expert in determining any one's sexual orientation, but I don't think that what you are telling me indicates whether or not this person is gay."

I was cordial. I mean, this person is telling me something here, albeit not the entire story from what I could gather, that is troubling her. And after hearing what I had to say about my life and this subject, she still came to me with her questions. I wasn't going to cut her off just because she was concerned.

"Well, I just don't like to foster that. I won't call her a tomboy."

And see... here is where I get frustrated. Not indignant, not angry, not self-righteous... but frustrated.

I will be the first to say that I don't "get" a lot of things. I don't "get" how to explain to people why in a world of unbelief that I believe in God, Jesus, the whole sha-bang. I don't "get" how to people can look at this world and conclude that there is no God. I don't "get" how people who do believe in God, in the life and teachings of Jesus, can be responsible for so much of the hatred and violence in the history of the world.

There are a million more things I don't "get."

But there is one thing I think I do.

Whether or not said adolescent is, in fact, a lesbian... refusing to call her a tomboy isn't going to change that. What is going to change her life - not her sexual orientation, but the quality of her life - is how people who love her, treat her.

I do not have all the answers about what makes someone gay.

But I do have the answer to how we are to treat all people, and that is with love.

And love looks different in different situations... but I'm not sure it ever looks like the refusal of accepting someone because of who they are. No matter what they are.

That certainly isn't the way I interpreted God's love for me.

There are things about me way more heinous than my sexual orientation for God to be appalled about. But he isn't. And he loves me despite all he knows.

And he doesn't pretend I'm not what I am. Nor does he encourage me to do that.

When I think about this women's perspective, I don't think that she's alone. I can attest that there are many in my own faith who feel almost superstitious about jinxing their children or grandchildren or nieces or nephews into being gay. And for a lot of people, it's because they just don't have the experience with the subject that they would need to in order to form an more informed belief.

But, I think that that statement is true for way more than just Christians and homosexuality. I think it is true about all people and Christianity.

No, strike that.

Because a lot of people experience Christianity through Christians who ruin them for life based upon completely un-Christian-like behaviors.

I think it's true about all people and Jesus.

He is left unexperienced.

So this woman asking me about the color pink is just a scratch on the surface of stuff which has been bugging me.

Life isn't about pink or blue.

And it's definitely not black and white.

And while I wish I had some sort of profound conclusion to end with... even for my own sake... I just don't.

Sigh.

to santa or not to santa

Why do people get horribly angry about children not believing in Santa Claus?

The word "belief" holds such a strong meaning. Wars are fought over them. People are willing to die for them. They separate neighbors and yet connect strangers.

As a person, to "believe" in something is just about the most definitive a statement one can make.

So, in insisting that a child must believe in Santa does strike me as a little dangerous. Espeically since -spoiler alert- we all KNOW (which is another word for "believe") that he is not real.

Now, don't get me wrong, we aren't going to be one of those families who turn Santa into a four letter word. However, we are going to let our daughter know that he's "pretend" just like all of the other storybook characters she enjoys. If she wants to make-believe that he is her gift-giver at Christmas, we can pretend with her. And yes, we will make sure she knows not to tell her friends any differently than they believe. But I just don't see any positives to telling Lilah that Santa is real...

The whole Christmas story (not the bible one) just sounds like a web of lies woven one night when a parent got caught off guard by an inquisitive child.

I can imagine (I pretend this, not believe it)-- It started with little Susie wanting to know the truth about St. Nicholas, and some well-meaning dad who failed his Saint's history class just started babbling.

"How does Santa get into the house if we are all asleep?"

"Umm..... through the chminey?"

"How does Santa get on the roof?"

"Umm....a magical sleigh?"

"What pulls the sleigh?"

"Umm... flying reindeer?"

"Where does he get all the presents?"

"Umm...he makes them?"

"How does he make ALL of them?"

"Umm...he has elves who help him?"

And from this, Susie the chatterbox five-year-old spread to all her friends, the Christmas story as we know it today.

I think the "magic" surrounding Christmas is wonderful. I love how so many people from different backgrounds all come together in celebration of... well, children. Because honestly, it's not really the "mass" of Christ which brings mankind together at holidays.

It's the season of giving. For family. For getting our retail-based economy back in the black. The celebration of stuff.

And really, that's all fine with me. I love giving gifts. I love shopping. I love my family. It just bothers me that in all midst of all this, the real meaning is overlooked.

Cue up my Linus moment.

I'm always so interested in people's stories. The details of our lives which make us unique, yet connect us all.

And when I look at the life of The Virgin Mary, I am intrigued by how God's work in her life was done in such a way as not to make her some sort of unattainable celebrity. She is just a woman, a mother, a believer... just like me.

She went through nine months of feeling her child grow inside of her. She experienced feeling him move for the first time. She strained through the bouts of discomfort.

She bore him in childbirth, and she was spared no pain in the process. She held her child in her arms for the first time and no doubt fell in love with him.

These are all the same experiences I had with Lilah (although I was spared some pain in childbirth, thank you epidural).

Of course, the details were different. Jesus was born in a stable to would-be fugitives. Lilah was born in a cushy hospital bed while I watched American Idol.

But the experience; the essence of bringing a child into the world... I believe so much that God wanted all mothers to be able to relate to Mary. To understand the love a mother has for her own child. The importance and sacrifice of motherhood.

Because think about it... Jesus could have just appeared one day, a full grown man, out of the heavens. He could have hatched from an egg. He could have exploded forth from a volcano, arrived on a spaceship, or been lowered down from the sky in a huge pyrotechnics display.

And he wasn't.

He came into the world like I did. Like you did. Like my child and your child.

And while every child's birth is special, this child's birth--Jesus' birth, comes with it a promise.

For you. For me. For our children. For everyone.

THIS is the child who makes right the covenant between God and His Creation. THIS is the child who will exemplify for all generations the righteous life we are all to strive for. THIS is the child through which the history of the world is changed. I am changed through THIS child.

This is what I believe at Christmas. I believe in the humanity of the story of Christmas. The realness. It's not a stretch for me to believe the story of the nativity like it is for me that of Santa and bottomless sack of toys.

So why does the pretend story get all the attention?

The truth is not lacking in mystery, miracle, beauty, or relatability.

I guess as a people, we have a history of choosing lies over truth.

And while some people might just write me off with the notion that I just think too much about things (which I believe I do at times), I do profess that it's important to me to be intentional in all I do.

Even in a make-believe world.

sad shopping

Yesterday I was at the mall buying some pants.

Since having a baby, I haven't owned a pair of black dress pants, and it was time I found a new pair. I opted once again for the cheapest, "They almost fit me" pair as opposed to the more expensive, "They make my butt look awesome" pair--as usual. I can never reason the extra money when the lesser costing pair still serve the purpose.

I had two 30% coupons in my hand as I stood in the checkout line. The lady behind me was purchasing a coat, so I offered her one of my extra coupons.

I love doing this. Probably because I would think it so awesome if someone would offer me a coupon for something I was buying as I was standing in line to pay for it.

She was most grateful. Both she and her lady friend were probably in their early 60s, well put-together, and very chatty. They both raved about Lilah the entire duration of line waiting. It was a nice conversation, and I felt good that I'd contributed to this stranger's good mood.

Both the lady and me were called to the cashiers at the same time. Our purchases rang up, and I overheard the lady's cashier tell her that her total was somewhere around $80 for the coat.

I then heard the saleswoman ask the lady if she'd like to contribute $1.00 to St. Jude's Children's Hospital.

The lady declined.

Wait... wait a minute...

In my mind, I did the algebra:

70% (X) = $80.00

X = approximately $115.00

Total savings with coupon: $35.00

This woman was willing to have paid the full $115.00 for this coat; she was in line to pay for it before I even offered her the coupon. Therefore, she unexpectedly was going to get to leave the store with $35 extra in her pocket.

And of that extra $35, she didn't want to spare a mere $1 to a charity.

Now, I'm sure that there could be an extenuating circumstance I don't know about. Perhaps this woman supports only certain charities approved by her church. Perhaps she was planning on making her own contribution to St. Jude's in a large lump sum in exchange for a tax write-off-able receipt closer to the end of the year. Perhaps she hates sick children. I have no idea.

It just didn't seem right to me. She was granted some unanticipated grace in her favor, and then when provided with the chance to do the same, she declined less than five minutes later.

I've never felt so sad buying pair of pants before.