Serious Sunday

The idea of obsession refers to a disproportionate or unusual focus on something. For instance, someone can be obsessed with pottery making or Facebook or going to the gym. It simply means they pay more attention than most people to something, even most people who are interested in something. This is when obsessions can get tricky.

No one who has ever achieved anything impressive or made an outstanding contribution to anything, has managed do so without a certain level of obsession. An athlete, a musician, a writer, a scientist…these endeavors make a difference in our lives and in the lives of others.

However, when an obsession becomes an addiction, that obsession can unbalance us. We often begin to neglect parts of our lives we shouldn’t. Obsession can become consuming and cause us to devalue important aspects of our lives to the point that they atrophy and even collapse.

The goal is to keep our lives in balance. If the object of our obsession is taken from us, we may find ourselves devastated, often convinced that we have lost our last chance at happiness.

But that belief is a delusion.

Our happiness never depends on any one thing, no matter how important that one thing may seem. That bears repeating.

Our happiness never depends on any one thing, no matter how important that one thing may seem.

When properly harnessed, the drive, the determination, the increased energy and even the resiliency a (healthy) obsession brings can serve us. It can motivate us to find the creativity to solve difficult problems.

It seems that nearly everything in life requires that delicate balance.

The thought of the weekend message was ‘pay attention to what you pay attention to’. There are no holds barred on that statement. It brings immediate clarity to what it is we give our attention. And it is different for every one of us.

On a lighter note of the same subject, here is a bit of where my attention goes.

Some people drive down the road and stare a little too long at a car or a pretty woman walking down the street or a handsome man in his yard or a tractor…you get the idea. If I am ever going to run off of the road staring at something, it will be flowers.

In the spring and summer, I always, always, always notice flowers in a yard. And if I see window boxes with flowers in them, it gets really serious.

If I am ever pulled over for suspicious driving, it may be difficult to explain to the officer that I was simply looking at flowers. And if I am asked to walk a straight line, I cannot guarantee that I will pass the test if there is a winding row of daffodils I have my eyes on.

A significant part of what we give our attention to is who we are; who and what it is God created us to be. I fully believe that some things are simply within us at birth. Even those things may need careful cultivating.

For other things, they may need that aforementioned harnessing.

One of the most beautiful joys that God wants us to experience is freedom.

I often say two phrases: Knowing is everything. Peace is everything. But oh, freedom is truly everything. ‘Knowing’ and ‘peace’ are huge, but they pale in comparison to freedom.

Pay attention to what you pay attention to.

 

 

 

 

 

Serious Sunday

This morning, the pastor said these things: If we follow our money trail, it reveals what we are obsessed about. When you look at your bank statement, it will clearly show your obsession or obsessions. It tells us something. It always has and it always will.

Is it clothing? Gym memberships? Restaurants? Boat payment? Strictly bill-paying and no fun at all? Giving to the needy?

About what are we obsessed? Our lives usually make that revelation.

How obsessed are we about prayer?

God hears all prayers. How often we feel the need to pray for the poor people in Nicaragua or the orphans in Guinea or the young girls in forced prostitution in India. And Lord knows, they certainly need our prayers.

But we all need prayers. Bill Gates, Warren Buffett and Mark Zuckerberg need prayers. Justin Timberlake, Kim Kardashian and Will Smith need prayers. Billy Graham, Joel Osteen and Brian Tome need prayers.

And so do you. And so do I. From the poorest of the poor and the richest of the rich and the meanest of the mean and the nicest of the nice. WE ALL NEED PRAYERS.

What we learned in church today is that those above mentioned in Nicaragua and Africa and India actually WANT to pray for US! We sometimes forget that people consider it an honor and a privilege to pray, even for strangers. What a sweet thought.

Today we took ‘selfies’ and attached that photo to a page that included our names and a request for a specific thing. Those will be sent to thousands of people in Africa, India and Nicaragua. They will look at our photos and pray. They will look at ME and pray for me EVERY DAY. How amazing is that?

I believe that prayer is a mystery. Yet, I believe in that mystery. I believe in that power. I have seen it change things. One of those things is me. I know that I know that I know there is a higher power who hears me and intervenes and intercedes and gives me grace and patience and words.

I have heard it said that one of the biggest benefits of prayer is that it connects us to God. I believe that is true. But I also know (that I know that I know) that it is powerful enough to change outcomes and change hearts and change directions.

And those things change futures, which is something I am unable to do (dang it).

 

Serious Sunday

I read something this morning that spoke of seeking God’s face, not only for His presence, but for His peace. It said in order to receive God’s peace, we must change our grasping, controlling stance to one of openness and trust. And then this, “the only thing you can grasp without damaging your soul is My hand.”

That last line punched me in the stomach. How often we grasp at THINGS; the right car, the best house, the popular education, the most fashionable fashion, the correct lip color, youth and beauty.

There is nothing wrong with attempting to achieve those things…as long as we are first and foremost reaching for God’s hand. King Solomon said “There is nothing new under the sun. All is vanity and a striving after the wind.” In another translation: “Meaningless! Meaningless! Everything is meaningless.”

It is incredibly challenging to live in this world of financial, educational, and vocational pressure. On top of that add the pressure of looking youthful and beautiful and to appear “I have the perfect life” on social media. Well, it’s too much.

I am the first guilty one to literally (yes, literally) buy into the latest cosmetic trend. I can’t deny my every six weeks on the nose appointment to get my hair “conditioned.” I will most likely never actually ‘wear out’ a pair of my shoes and I own more socks and scarves than Macy’s.

But…if I grasp those things I will damage my soul. If those things become my idol, my poor eyes have betrayed me.

I do like “things”, perhaps a bit more than I should. I do, however, desire to seek God’s face. I want to hold His hand. I crave His presence and His peace. I may love Tory Burch shoes and Estée Lauder lipstick but those things will never bring me peace. And peace is everything.

 

 

Serious Sunday

How to leave your mark. That was the subject.

One thought is to be aggressive. I am a person that would probably not be described as aggressive. I may look like a soft, little kitten. Until I am cornered. I will come out fighting. And mess with my kids and I become Scar from Lion King. I will eat your face for lunch. Yeah, that is aggression. But being aggressive also means going after important things. Going after those things with gusto. Protecting those who need help.

Another thought is to have convictions. No matter what disappointments, failures or injustices come your way, let your convictions always be true, always be consistent. That is how to leave your mark.

The last thought is do the work. Our pastor calls it “Hitting the same nail every day, no matter how long it takes.” If we want to leave our mark, it requires sacrifice of time and energy and sleep and perhaps even pride. It is getting up every day and clocking in. Doing the work day in and day out until a goal is achieved. That is what heroes do.

We all want to make a difference, to leave our mark. The overarching idea is that leaving our mark very often requires physical movement; standing up for justice, staying on track with idealism, working that second job. Leaving our mark sounds like a good idea and does involve a degree of mental strength and agility. But the real mark is left when we jump in with both feet, get our hands dirty, carry on with cuts and bruises and push ourselves to true physical limits.

Theodore Roosevelt said: “The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly, who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming…who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place will never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.

We all want to be warriors. We want dust and sweat and blood on our faces. That is how we leave our mark.

Be aggressive. Have convictions. Do the work. Those three things. They are uniquely individualized. For some, it may mean keeping someone safe. For others it may mean staying true to the course even when others are not. For some it may mean just going in to work with a smile and staying consistent. Those are things warriors do. Warriors who want to leave a mark.

Even soft, little kittens can do that.

 

Serious Sunday

Before I spoke a word
You were singing over me
Before I took a breath
You breathed your life in me

Oh, the overwhelming, never ending, reckless love of God
Oh, it chases me down, fights till I’m found, leaves the ninety-nine
I couldn’t earn it
I don’t deserve it
Still you give yourself away
Oh, the overwhelming, never ending, reckless love of God

There’s no shadow You won’t light up
Mountain You won’t climb up
Coming after me
There’s no wall You won’t kick down
No lie You won’t tear down
Coming after me

I love, love, love the visuals in this song. First, what priceless preciousness to think of God singing over you and breathing life into you. It’s goose-bumping.

My next dearest part of this song is the word ‘reckless’. Webster defines reckless as having or showing no regard for danger or consequences. Some synonyms are: fast and loose, over adventuresome, ill-advised, any which way, temerarious – a great word we don’t often use in our everyday talk, but we should! When you look up the word temerarious, the meaning is audacious, overbold, blindly, recklessly – YES!

I love the visual of God coming after me with a reckless kind love. It chases me down, fights till I’m found, leaves the ninety-nine. This picture is a lamb that has wandered from the fold. The shepherd leaves the herd to find that one, searching all night, fighting wolves if necessary. This leads right into my very favorite part of the song.

There’s no shadow You won’t light up. God wants to light up those shadowy dark corners of our lives, those places that are scary and uncomfortable.

Mountain You won’t climb up. Sometimes it feels that we are so far from God’s reach that He can’t get to us. Not true! Picture God as the mightiest of sherpas scaling Mt. Everest in the fiercest of storms coming after you.

There’s no wall You won’t kick down. This may be my favorite (I promise, this time.) I am crazy in love with the visual of God going all Chuck Norris roundhouse on our walls and kicking the crap out of them! There is no wall He won’t kick down. Ahhh!

No lie You won’t tear down. This line may not have quite the physical punch of the others, but boy, is it powerful. So many, dare I say most, of our issues are from lies that we believe. The evil one of this world is the slinkiest liar, the biggest deceiver, the sneakiest conniver, the ugliest teller of pretty lies. He whispers those things into our ears when we are our weakest, most vulnerable, bleeding selves. But…God will tear down those lies and shred them like confetti.

Coming after me. How great is that?! The visual I garner here is Liam Neeson in the original TAKEN movie. He is going after his girl no matter what. Come hell or high water, he is getting her back. Think Liam Neeson on steroids ~ that is God coming after you.

We all want to be loved this way. We are created to be pursued, to be wooed. That is why we are so drawn to love. We want to be wanted. Occasionally, it is difficult for me to wrap my head around the concept that God does that perfectly, better than anyone or anything or any spirit, belief, hope or dream.

Reckless love, baby.

 

 

Sanctity Sunday

We made it to church! It was good to be there and sing the old-fashioned hymns, as well as the newer choruses that are nearly verbatim from scripture. Love that. I held Mama’s hand when we prayed and we ate peppermint lifesavers.

It was also good to watch Mom’s face fill with light when she saw her friends and they hugged her and she became the center of attention. She came to life. For a while.

In 1984, President Ronald Reagan issued a proclamation designating the third Sunday of January as The Sanctity of Human Life Sunday. Churches around the United States use the day to celebrate God’s gift of life and commemorate the many lives lost to abortion. And commit themselves to protecting human life at every stage.

Since the landmark decision of Roe v. Wade in 1973, between 58-60 million babies have been aborted. It saddens me to to think of 45 year olds who could be enjoying life this day; being with family, celebrating a birthday, curing cancer…who knows.

The pastor said: “Whatever God is about is a sacred thing and God is about multiplying life.” He also said that abortion is a spiritual thing. Spot on. EVERYTHING is spiritual.

Driving home from church I was thinking about a day in 1993. I was working full-time as an administrative assistant at a large and thriving orthopedic surgery practice. The office was in Clifton on Auburn Avenue, directly across the street from Planned Parenthood. I vividly remember one late autumn day, protesters marching in front of the building, carrying signs. Though I am 100% pro-life, it did not sit well with me. In fact, I wrote about it in a journal that evening. That was pre-blog.

To understand this, you may need to give me grace. I was away from home 11 hours every day, working to put Mike through medical school. We, of course, already had our three precious boys. Life was challenging. Andrew got onto the school bus, then Christopher, then I dashed Noah to preschool and drove to work, fighting I-71 traffic every morning.

That day in 1993 when I looked across the street and saw women my age in their cute jeans and stylish boots and warm fall jackets proudly hoisting their signs like badges of honor, I felt anger. For starters, it made me angry because I was jealous that these women had the time and freedom to do their two hour stint of sign holding, while I was working hard to simply feed my boys. But for another reason it felt too easy for happily married thirty-somethings from Hyde Park to be “doing the right thing.” I remember writing that perhaps doing the right thing would have been to go inside and talk to one of those young women, take her out for coffee, help her care for the three other little ones at home. Make an effort to understand what some of those broken, confused women may have been going through.

It sickens me to think of sweet babies snuffed away forever. Two days ago I blogged about the new ruling in Switzerland, forbidding the unkindness to lobsters by putting them into boiling water. How that ridiculously pales in significance when we consider the unkindness shown to 60 million babies. God have mercy on us.

Mama and I did enjoy church. And I am reminded on this day, that a commitment to protect human life at every stage certainly includes my nearly 90 year old mother. Her life must be honored. All human life must be honored, whether or not they have a voice.

 

Empathy Culture

Empathy culture. That is what the pastor spoke about today. The current series is titled “How Not to be a Jerkface.” Okay then.

The pastor spoke of the difference (huge) between sympathy and empathy. Sympathy is defined as feelings of pity and sorrow for someone else’s misfortune.

Empathy, on the other hand, is defined as the ability to understand and share the feelings of another. Also, the capacity to place oneself in another’s position.

I got into a conversation after church with a woman I had never met. She has two grade school-aged children, but prior to those births, had suffered three miscarriages. She told me that the worst thing people said to her was: “Everything happens for a reason.” And “I know how you must feel.” Hollow words when you do not believe either one of those things.

According to Psychology Today, empathy is known to increase positive social behaviors. While it seems that American culture may be more focused on becoming more individualistic rather than empathic, research has uncovered the existence of “mirror neurons”, which react to emotions expressed by others and then reproduce them. Fascinating.

Sympathy may externally sound like: “Wow, I’m so sorry.” Internally: “Whew! Better you than me.”

Empathy may externally sound like: “My heart is breaking with you.” Internally: Crushing and remembered pain.

The scripture reference today was found in Matthew, chapter eight. A man with leprosy knelt before Jesus and said: “Lord, if you are willing, you can make me clean.” Verse three states that Jesus reached out his hand and touched the man. “I am willing,” he said. “Be clean!” Immediately he was cured. Jesus did a lot of miracles. The key to this one is that he ‘reached out his hand and touched the man.’ Lepers were like someone with ebola. No one wanted to be near them, much less touch them. Jesus knew he needed healing. But Jesus also knew he needed a literal human connection.

Sometimes we have to get into the ditches with people. Get our hands dirty. Physically help someone.

So, let’s all stop being jerkfaces. It may seem that sympathy is getting a bad rap here. That is not the case. When we see the misfortune of others, it is natural to sympathize; to feel sorry for, to send a note to say tell them you are praying. Nothing wrong with that.

But empathy, friends, goes to a whole new level. Empathy reaches out and and holds. Empathy re-breaks your heart. Empathy weeps so much with another person that your tears stream together.

Here’s the kicker. It must be authentic. You cannot be fake. People know. Oh, do they know.

Side note: A good thing (I almost said “one” good thing. My bad. There are MANY good things) about being 60 is that you have acquired life experience. That can be extremely valuable when it comes to empathy.

A friend of mine once described pain as ‘standing there with your guts hanging out’. Yep. A sympathetic person will say: “Gee, that’s too bad. Need a tissue?” An empathic person will go pick up your guts and sew them back in.

Be a sewist.

Post Christmas Blues

I have a slight case of PCB. We celebrated our final 2017 holiday weekend with Andrew and Lindsey. What a treat. They drove here from New Haven, Connecticut on December 19 and stayed till Christmas Eve. They then boarded a jet and flew to Lindsey’s family in Seattle.

On Thursday they arrived back in Ohio and we have enjoyed them to the fullest. One of my very favorite moments with them was this morning. All six of us in the kitchen making bacon and sausage and pancakes with warm syrup and hot coffee and lovely mimosas in crystal glasses with blueberries floating on top. The sounds of bacon sizzling and coffee brewing and plates clattering and laughter of our children…well, it is as close to heaven as I can imagine.

Christmas was good. But it is time to move back into normalcy. On Monday I will begin the routine processes of life.

The pastor talked today about abundance. We hope and pray that the Lord gives us what we need. We often think small about God. We envision Him as barely scraping enough together to satisfy our emptiness. We forget that God is sovereign and omnipotent. Sometimes God wants to give us abundance; far beyond what we ask. I don’t understand how it all works. But I am definitely interested.

My hope and prayer for this year is abundance for my family; physical growth in numbers, mental and emotional abundance, relational, spiritual and all around abundance, abundance, abundance.

Perhaps the beginning of abundance is this photo of my dear mama with my amazing son and his precious bride. The photobomber is part of the abundance, too. He brings laughter to the family. An abundance of that should certainly be added to the list.

Eyes and Hearts

Did you know that Opie did not actually throw that stone into the lake at the beginning of the Andy Griffith Show? I know! Heresy!

At the time of the show’s beginning, Opie (Ron Howard) was only six years old. His little arm could not hurl it far enough. A prop man hid in the bushes and threw the rock that made the splash, timing it to look as if Opie actually threw it.

Hollywood can make anything look real.

What about our real lives? How often do our eyes deceive us? I would guess that our eyes deceive us in some way every single day.

Scripture is clear in reminding us to live by faith, not by sight.

Singer-songwriter, musician Neil Young said “Back then people closed their eyes and listened to music. Today there’s a lot of images that go with the music. A lot of music is crap and it’s all commercial and the images are all trying to sell the record.

I believe there is something to that. Perhaps we should occasionally close our eyes and listen to music, rather than watching a Youtube video. There is much more to see with our eyes closed than with them open.

And then this from Thomas Merton: “Be good, keep your feet dry, your eyes open, your heart at peace and your soul in the joy of Christ.”

Many things pull at us and vie for the attention of our eyes. But if we keep our hearts at peace and our souls in the joy of Christ, then our open eyes will not deceive us.

And now a little side note. So many shows drag on until they limp away, fatigued and lifeless. To prevent this from happening, the producers of The Andy Griffith Show made the wise decision to end it after the eighth season. Because of this, the show had the distinct honor of being one of only three shows that ended atop the Nielsen’s Ratings chart. I Love Lucy and Seinfeld are the only other two.

Good move, there, Andy Griffith Show. That integrity makes it a bit easier to accept that Opie did not throw that stone. Though, darn it, I will never enjoy that whistling quite the same again.

 

Holy Donut!

I have a heart-warming Christmas story for you. It is about a donut shop in Portland, Maine.

The idea for the shop grew out of a craving the owner had for a deeply satisfying yet healthy comfort food – specifically, a donut. She wanted a donut made with fresh ingredients that she could feel okay about eating. Since she couldn’t find that, she created it herself.

Leigh Kellis started making donuts in her kitchen. When things started hopping, her father, Allan Kellis, jumped in to help. She wanted to make the donuts from scratch, using as many local ingredients as possible. After some trial and error, she came up with a winner. The (not-so) secret ingredient: fresh Maine potatoes. “Adding mashed potatoes gives the donuts a delicious moist texture. They practically melt in your mouth.” I think I’m in love.

In just three short years, they have grown to 80 employees and now make two million donuts a year.

Heart-warming, right?

Well, here is the really warm part. In fact, it is so warm that it may burn your butt.

The donut shop had asked customers to help them with a Christmas gift drive for a local family with five children. The customers who participated received free donuts. The donut shop reached out to the Salvation Army to find the family in need.

Soon, an online mob stormed the donut shop’s Facebook page. Some people were irate that the donut shop had reached out to the Salvation Army, accusing the SA of discriminating against a specific group. The anti-donut mob threatened boycott unless the donut shop renounced its association with the Salvation Army.

The owner quickly commented: “We do not support the Salvation Army in any way or consider them a partner, they simply helped link us to a needy family.” Some people were actually upset that the donut shop dared to help a family in need during the Christmas season. Wait…what?

I do wonder if these protestors actually know what the Salvation Army does. I am guessing no. But that aside, why would anyone give this donut shop a public shaming for trying to do a selfless, generous act at Christmas. I am perplexed.

To quell the growing controversy, the shop owners wrote an apology on Facebook. They stated that they are an organization which prides themselves on their track record of kindness and acceptance of everyone.

I am saddened by this story. I am saddened to know that there are people in this world, specifically, for the sake of this post, people in Portland, Maine, who are so broken and bruised that they are unable to see the light of goodness. God help us, every one.

The name of the donut shop is The Holy Donut. I know if I am ever in Portland, I will make a stop there. I will not only applaud their efforts and desire to spread good cheer at Christmas, I will be eating ridiculous amounts of donuts made with mashed potatoes. I hear the top sellers are fresh lemon, coffee cake, chai glazed, coffee brandy, toasted coconut with coconut milk glaze and maple bacon. God bless them, every one.