Wednesday, October 7, 2015

The Color of Compassion

I used to think of the colors of October as orange and red, gold and brown. The colors of the fading, falling autumn leaves. But during the last 20 years, the United States has adopted a positively Funny Face soundtrack of Think Pink. Assuming you've somehow missed the memo, the color pink now represents breast cancer awareness and is often accompanied by pithy slogans, my favorite being "Fight Like A Girl."

The aggressive marketing of the pink ribbon leaves the impression that there are no other October hues. But October offers a beautiful spectrum of causes in which you can invest and for which you can champion. However, as often happens, the good intentions of some (to raise money to fund crucial research into curing cancer) have turned into the money-making schemes of others (the statistics about where the money actually goes is shocking!). 

I'll lead off with the tips about investing in any cause. These were inspired by Margaret Fienberg's blog post about the Pink month which I've linked below in my listing of the colors of October.

Think Big and Think Little: 
About each cause, you can think both big (nationally or globally) and small (locally). There may be large, dedicated organizations to whom you can donate funds that go directly to research or counseling or treatment. You may also know an individual or family who could personally use your monetary gift. 

Think Creatively:
Consider other ways to give as well--volunteer time, call a hurting friend, and send a card to someone in the throes of suffering. Be a shoulder to cry on. Be eyes aware of the signs of abuse. Be a heart open to a hurting soul. Be a helping hand folding laundry or washing dishes for the exhausted cancer patient or patient mama of extra-special kiddos.

Think Critically:
Research organizations and individuals asking for money. Don't donate or purchase products thoughtlessly. The money goes somewhere, right? The question we must ask is "Where?". Honest organizations hide nothing in their financials, and you can and need to find out where your money goes because you want it all to go the Cause.

Think For Yourself:
Don't let popularity bully you. Sure everybody else might be wearing a pink bow and running in a particular race. So? You know where you are called to spend your resources whether or not you got a cute t-shirt or a bold bumper sticker to advertise the fact. If you find a good, honest organization, then share the info with others!

Now onto the color swatch of October awareness: 

Pink: Breast Cancer Awareness
Margaret Feinberg, a breast cancer fighter herself,  gives you very good reasons to stop and think before donating your green to the Pink. The tips she offers for being a wise donor and a compassionate friend protect us from being careless with our money and our attention.

Purple: Domestic Violence Awareness 
I read this organization's blog because of the practical and knowledgeable information I glean in dealing with mental illness, trauma, and emotional hurt and healing. This is the counselor's introductory post about Domestic Violence. Regardless of your geographic location, I'm sure there's a shelter or a counseling agency willing to help you help them.


Pink/Blue: Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness
A brave friend of mine recently opened her heart on Facebook to post about her little Hannah, who turned 9 in heaven this month. Many do not feel able to be open with their grief or honest with their pain and so suffer in silence. Cassidy recommends this organization who continue to encourage her and her family they journey through grief. I know one thing that parents who've lost children have told me they want but rarely receive--the gift of someone else saying their child's name outloud. Don't be afraid to tell them you remember their little person too. 


Blue/Yellow: Down Syndrome Awareness
I've linked to a blog post written by Gillian Marchenko, mama to two beautiful girls with Down Syndrome. She's written numerous posts and a book about this journey, and I highly recommend them to you if you or someone you know finds yourself facing a future that includes a Down Syndrome loved one.


So pick a color, pick a cause. There are perhaps other causes connected to this month as well. These are ones that have been brought to my attention by friends and women I respect. Please prayerfully consider how being aware of each of these causes might move you on to "love and good deeds" this October. Awareness does nothing if it doesn't induce us to action. May God guide and equip you. 



{As a final thought, I'd like to add how uncomfortable watching football games in October is. So few team colors actually go well with those pink accessories. What if instead, each team chose a cause that represents itself with those same colors and championed that cause year round? More awareness, more funds raised, more comfortable viewing. Just an idea. :) }


Friday, September 18, 2015

Keep On Connecting

Often "dates" with my husband consist of the hour and a half long commute to and from our sporadic training seminars, mandatory to maintain our license as a foster care family. Recently, on one such long drive, Tim asked me who has had the greatest influence on my life in the past ten years. My first response was "Midday Connection!" I discovered this noonday program I don't know how long ago and began to listen as these intelligent women discussed books, movies, music, culture, and how it all related to our relationship with our Creator God. I've attended three Midday events, I think; 2 luncheons at MBI and a creative retreat weekend. After hearing about the book God of All Comfort on the program, I began the study with friends of mine who were suffering deeply. It was a priviledge to walk that journey with them with a guide I could trust to keep us holding on to Jesus. I was able to speak with Dee Brestin at the live program luncheon. What an honor. 

I can't tell you how many times I've recommended either the program itself or a resource I've discovered through Midday. I've laughed and cried. I've argued back, standing at my kitchen sink, my hands in soapy water. But these friends, they taught me how to argue and still be friends!

This is my third attempt at writing a post dedicated to Midday Connection. My first was in the tantrum stage, and I knew it would never see the light of posting. :) My second focused on a little preaching the Holy Spirit did with my daughter and me, we both of us struggling with change and its inherent pain, discomfort and uncertainty. As I spoke the truths to her, seeking to encourage and strengthen her, the Holy Spirit turned them and shot them right back into my own aching heart. God is Good. All the Time.
He is the potter. I am the clay.
He is the garden. I am the plot.
And above all, He is the Perfectly Good God who does all His work to His glory and our good. 

I won't pretend that I'm not still angry. I find it ironic (oh as an English major I'm always afraid of using that word in the wrong way), that the program on which the leadership chose to announce the ending of Midday was the book club session where Dr. Rosalie de Rosset talked about the silencing of women. I cannot help but see the ending of Midday as just that. The silencing of a group of women who encouraged Christians to seek God while He may be found. There is nothing like this anywhere else on Moody or any other radio station. I think the leadership is wrong. But I understand that God is still in this. He will still work His perfect plan. 

I am still afraid. I love connecting people with resources to meet their needs, and Midday gave me an opportunity to expand my knowledge of such resources. A place to direct others in need. Now I feel it's on me. If I want to continue connecting others to help, then I will have to intentionally be out there discovering the resources myself. I don't know how or if I even have the time to do this. 

I am still sad. While I hear Anita's anticipation with joy and Lori's sabbatical plans of peace, while I watch God do a beautiful thing in Melinda's waiting, I still mourn the loss of a daily meeting with dear women. They don't know me, but they have become trusted friends, women who speak truth, who dare to question the status-quo, who stretch and challenge me and most of all encourage me to listen to the Voice of God.

But I know. I know that God is Good. He is the Potter. He is the Gardener. I hope to continue to follow these women in their journeys. I hope that their encouragement to us--to keep on connecting--is not in vain. We can use what we've learned to continue to reach out to others even as we grow deeper in relationship with God.

I'm ending with my favorite "change" song--"Lord, I Don't Know" by the Newsboys. I'm praying this for the people of Midday (I really am so thankful for all of them even though the three most common voices get the most recognition!) and for us the listeners as well.

Friday, June 12, 2015

Dale Lewis, A Tribute

My world is enclosed by people of whose love I am convinced. There are family members whom I often take for granted. Friends from high school and college, teachers and mentors. Daily friends from current life and keep-in-touch friends from seasons past. Regardless of the frequency of contact between us, I draw support from each person just because I know they exist, and I know they either love me or like me or both. It is as if I am surrounded by light, hope in the darkness of my self-criticsm. On June 11th, one of those lights went out. I didn't even realize how much I appreciated and relied on his encouragement until I learned of his death. Dale Lewis, from seasons past my yearbook advisor and mentor. A few years ago reconnected at a 10 year reunion/homecoming weekend. Most recently, a Facebook friend. Irregular contact, occasional posts and "likes" and annual birthday wishes. But despite the infrequency of our interaction, his encouragement and joy remained a constant in my life. I am my own worst critic, aware of every false thought and lazily missed opportunity. If left in a world of my creating, I would dwell in hopeless murk. But these lights that glow around me, like the haze of a big city at night, these people who refuse to allow me to just be my worst but stubbornly see, coax, enjoy any good that might be in me, any talent struggling to surface. I am so grateful for those lights! And I mourn this world's loss of a man who lived a joyful life. Choosing joy over bitterness in the face of disappointment and rejection. Always loving and accepting, despite differences and failings. He chose to see others as Jesus sees them--human beings created in God's image, weak and sinful but loved by a Redeeming Creator. I think he took to heart and lived out to his best ability I Corinthians 13:7 "love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things." Not a perfect person but one who trusted the Perfect Person completely and submitted himself to His perfect plan.

I sift through old photographs, seeing once familiar faces, more and more of whom are now in the Great Cloud of Witnesses. I long to join them. But I see too, many faces who are still here, running the race or lost off course. God, help me to be a light for them. Always bearing. Always believing. Always hoping. Always enduring. Choosing joy. Just like Jesus. Just like Dale.

Monday, December 15, 2014

Not Saving Christmas

I've noticed a pattern in holiday movies, especially those marketed to the children. It's all about saving Christmas. The formula consists of a bunch of people not believing in Christmas or Santa Claus, a child who believes, and a Santa who's gone missing or lost the gift bag or his sled breaks down.  And that faithful child or group of children, or pets as the case may be, has to act heroically, in order to ensure that Christmas does in fact happen, that is, that everyone gets a gift to open on Christmas morning. It's bugged me for a while as I watched these programs with my own children and felt the hopelessness of a world that depends on the sincere belief of children against the big-bad world of hard-hearted adults. It's as if with maturity, one loses the ability to believe, and this belief--in whatever deity or saint or legend of your choosing--is what makes Christmas come.

Now I keep hearing the same phrase "saving Christmas" coming from the Christian sector. The very phrase "saving Christmas" grates on the nerves. Christmas, by its very nature, saves us. We cannot save Christmas. For all our good intentions, wishful thinking, or sincere believing, we are incapable of saving anything. Christmas is about God saving us. 

I think of a song on my Christmas playlist, sung by Mary Chapin Carpenter. It begins "no presents, no candy, no tree, no stockings hung by the fire. No parties, no family to greet, no angels' heavenly choirs. 
Bells are ringing all over the world, bells are ringing calling the light (emphasis mine)." Whatever we invent as the Christmas or Holiday season--gifts, family gatherings, trees or treats--these are just trimmings, all good things but if we let them eclipse the Light, they are empty, powerless distractions. If you are alone, barely keeping afloat in this difficult world, without gifts or family to present with gifts, I've got Good News for you--It's Still Christmas! If you live in a hostile country where your obvious celebration of such a religious holiday could mean death for you--It's still Christmas! 

In the barren, in the untouched womb, God conceived Christmas. Jesus, salvation. Immanuel, God with us. And He is with us still. Someone somewhere may succeed in preserving their perfect traditional holiday, but it isn't Christmas. Jesus is. Jesus the Light of the World born to seek and to save the lost. Born to set us free. Who "to our weakness is no stranger." Who is born Christ the Lord. Jesus saves us. He redeems us and He sets us free. Believe it or not, we easily become enamored of our captivity. Pretty paper on walls, pretty curtains at the bars. No amount of beautifying myself or my cell hides the lock on the door, the iron cuff on my ankle, and yet, I stayed. I saw Jesus, the light shining through the holes in His outstretched hands, welcoming me, promising peace and rest for my weary soul, freedom from this cage, hope against reason. I hesitated. Why? I don't know, perhaps the familiarity of our surroundings secures us against the unknown of that wide, open future. But eventually, one winter night, I reached out to touch that scarred hand, and He grasped hold of mine and has never let me go. This year, this Christmas, reach out to grasp the welcoming hand of the Christ-child, God-Man Jesus, and watch the prison disappear. Walk into that wide open, holding tightly to the Light of the World who promises to never leave you or forsake you. He is the faithful God who keeps His promises, crossed His heart and chose to die.

Don't exhaust yourself trying to "save Christmas" this year. "Behold your King! Before Him lowly bow" and you will be saved. 


Playlist
O Holy Night (Aliqua performs my favorite rendition) http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=PcMCgUovd08
Go Tell It on the Mountain
It's True by Sara Groves http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=h0LbaZ4PRZU
Reading list
Matthew 1:18-24
Romans 5:1-11
John 3:16-21
Hebrews 13:5,6
Acts 16:30,31
If you would like to venture into these Scriptures with someone, please let me know. I'd be honored to walk with you. 

Monday, November 24, 2014

Now Is The Time To Give Thanks

As a little girl, as a teenager, even as a young adult, I proclaimed Thanksgiving to be my favorite holiday. In the world of children, Christmas reigned as favorite since most could reasonably expect presents. In the world of religious adults, Christmas and Easter held equal sway as the appropriate favorite. But for me it has always been Thanksgiving. I'll just be honest--I think initially food, namely mashed potatoes and pie, relegated that Thursday in November to cherished day of the year in my calendar. I expect too that the relatively relaxed nature of the holiday in comparison to the chaotic Christmas celebrations appealed to my little introvert soul. We wore jeans (unheard of in that holiday dress pageantry world). We watched football. Sometimes we ate in the living room or wherever we could find an empty seat or patch of floor. As I aged, it remained my favorite for those same reasons. But these past few years, as I have grown, I find my reasons changed. As much as I dread the all-ready here and seemingly endless winter, I realized today that these months of November through March also contain my three favorite holiday "seasons:" Thanksgiving, Advent, and Lent.

Thanksgiving a dream combination word for the English-language lover. A word so simple in its make-up that we immediately memorize it and forget what it means. Thanks Giving. Giving Thanks. It's not a noun; it's a verb! An action verb at that! Give thanks! Just do it!
I look forward to this holiday every year, arranging my autumnal decorations in October, eeking my way through Halloween, all in anticipation of this one day where we gather, friends and family, to give thanks. I often feel alone in this anticipation. The day after October 31st, the Christmas candy replaced the Halloween candy on the grocery store shelves. Christmas lights appeared overnight. I passed decorated trees framed in house windows and found the "soft rock" radio station playing non-stop Christmas music, a full 55 days prior to that holiday! With all that has to be done for Christmas, teacher gifts and family gifts and and cleaning and planning (and pondering those dreaded new year's resolutions too), Thanksgiving becomes a deadline we must meet to ensure we're on track for the 25th of December. We rush through it, focusing on those traditional details of turkey and pie.
Or we're encouraged to view it as a conservative "take-it-back" holiday.  Remember the pilgrims and Indians. How they got a long and shared and how all people came to America for religious freedom? (nevermind the sarcasm, I'll get off my soapbox before I even start the lecture.).

The truth is that Thanksgiving is not a holiday of the past. It's a holiday of the present. Right now! This moment! This whole month and especially the 27th of November. Now is the time to Give Thanks! Reflect on these past months, days, hours, minutes. And rejoice. Gather together and give thanks. Share your joy, your gratitude with one another. Care for one another. Lift each other up with hope-filled words.

My challenge to you this November 27 is to Give Thanks. Get together with friends or family or both. Eat whatever you all like most to prepare and devour! Wear your comfortable clothes. And while you talk and laugh, give thanks.

This is the best way to prepare your heart and spirit for the coming seasons of Advent and Christmas. Taking time to remember all your blessings. I know there is pain and hurt and hunger in the world. And we can--we must--get and give help. But first, we have to stop and give thanks.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Wednesday, August 28, 2013

The Worst Kind


Although this post was written two years ago during our road trip out West to visit my father, I never published it. It's still true though. She's the best kind of girl.
July 2013

"I don't know how I got her" I often stay to friends and family about my girlie-girl daughter. Me, the self-forced tomboy, college feminist, outspoken woman, one time hater of the color pink. I gave birth to this female child who loves pink and purple, almost exclusively wears skirts & dresses, plays Barbies, and wants to be a mommy when she grows up. I find myself scorning her delicate choices and trying to push for non-stereotype options. 

But this same little girlie-girl is the bravest 6 year old I know, crying only twice during an elbow break, with surgery and recovery. Calming herself on the way to the ER by closing her eyes and thinking of what she'd be doing in school instead. She plays in the sand--which I won't touch. She tries new things and keeps up with her brothers. 

And on this camping trip, she has proven me to be the worst kind of woman.

In "When Harry Met Sally," Billy Crystal's character explains to Meg Ryan's character that there are only two kinds of women--"high maintenance and low maintenance." 
"What kind am I?" She inquires. 
"You're the worst kind." He responds. "High maintenance who thinks she's low maintenance." 

Yes, that's me. I'm often all talk but no action. 

Audrey gladly, even eagerly, uses the outhouse at campgrounds, treks around in tall grasses in jeans & DEET, sleeps on the cold, hard ground with no complaints. (This amazes me since as a baby she earned the nickname "Princess & the pea" because she refused to sleep anywhere but in our bed until we discovered a way to make her crib mattress softer.) She hikes up bluffs in pretty skirts and takes her baby dolls into the sand pits to play. She is sensitive to another's pain and brave enough to approach with comfort. 

Truly, she is the real woman I desire to be--one who embraces both her delicate feminine traits and her tough explorer interests. Soft and brave.

Badlands Musings

The following entries were written as my family and I drove west to visit my father and grandfather this summer. While our ultimate destination was mountainous Idaho, these musings are on what turned out to be my favorite terrain of the trip--the Badlands of North Dakota.



7-1-2013North Dakota rolls by revealing the surprise of hills and fields, blue skies and green grass.I didn't expect this. As a child and teenager, I despised the landscape of most prairie states, even the farming states closer to home, like Southern Illinois. Perhaps it is changed, I thought. Or perhaps it is me who has changed, not the landscape.


This consideration is confirmed in the complaints voiced by my own children--"nothing to look at, nothing to do" even while I try to memorize every mile that flies by. every rock pile dotted soybean field. every roaming heard of cattle. every duck delights as do the gulls and geese. cranes, and yes, even pelicans. The yellow, white and red grasses merge into bright green reeds in marshy waysides. Reservoirs overwhelm fence posts. And as you search the distant horizon, your chest expands to inhale this wide world. Here I can breathe. I can think. I can watch and examine. Well, as much as one can while speeding by at 75 mph.



7-2-2013

Just when I think I can't absorb anymore beauty, we pass another dream of scenery. North Dakota wild horses, wild hills, glorious wildflowers, white-clouded studded blue skies. I expand, the cavity in my soul filling up. I am full. I cry in amazement. And I rest as we enter Montana. I am full, I think. No more gasping in awe today. Then halfway through the state, after forests suddenly appeared on the sage hills, the mountains blaze across the horizon. Peaks and snow. shadows and light. The clouds around them seem separate from the skies above us, still in the plains. And tears well up again. I am overflowing. all this. all this is His doing. His. He is too great for me. It is a splendid overwhelming.




Every time you feel in God's creatures something pleasing and attractive, do not let your attention be arrested by them alone, but, passing them by, transfer your thoughts to God and say: O my God, if Thy creations are so full of beauty, delight and joy, how infinitely more full of beauty, delight and joy are Thou Thyself, creator of all! --Nicodemus of the Holy Mountain