Every year when December rolls around I get reflective. Another year has come and gone. What happened? What did I accomplish? What are my goals for the next year?
This year the holiday season approached with lights and bells & whistles just the same as always. I was so excited but knew this year would be a challenge. Work, plus grad school would eat away at the weekdays as well as the weekends. Could I squeeze in shopping here and there between students? Would I miss sitting in front of my tree because of the hours I had to sit in my office studying? I braced myself for the holiday season which (just as I expected) would fly by in a blink making me wonder "Hey, where did the month go?"
And maybe it was because my favorite time of year was slipping through my fingers that I became so easily annoyed with those little thing that I would usually let slide,- but this year I found myself internally cranky.
No I didn't go off on anyone, but I really feel the need to vent.
Hence, the blog. (Warning, you might not want to read this)
My biggest pet peeve this year was this seemingly constant barrage (either in close vicinity or via facebook)of I-refuse-to-be-politically-correct-because-I'm-a-Christian greetings. These usually came in the form of Merry CHRISTmas, or Jesus is the Reason for the Season, or Join my facebook group to keep Christ in Christmas if you are a REAL Christian, or Don't write "X-mas" groups.
Ugh!
Let me make myself clear. I am a Christian. I know Christmas Day is the day we observe the birth of Christ. So in the future, if I bump into you at church on Sunday and wish you a "Happy Holidays" it's not because I'm ignorant, nor is it because I'm trying to be politically correct. It's because between Nov. and Jan we celebrate many many holidays such as Thanksgiving, Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, Boxing Day (for those of you Brits)New Years Eve, and New Years Day. My wish if for you to have all of them happily. So please save me the lecture about how I'm supposed to say "Merry Christmas"
Secondly, I have no problem writing "X-mas" because I know the history behind it and I'm not actually removing Jesus from Christmas. No matter how many facebook groups protest it, I'm still going to do it guilt-free.
You, however are welcome to write it how ever you'd like and wish it however you'd like. It's a free country and I don't mind if you say "Merry Christmas"
But it does bother me that these people who insist on making everyone keep "CHRIST in CHRIStmas" do little more than post annoying stuff on facebook.
(Disclaimer: I do have many beautiful friends who spend the holiday season serving, giving, loving, blessing others, and sacrificing in ways that would truly honor Jesus in remembering his birth)
But for the others, if the focus is still on presents, Santa, spending money you don't have to buy presents for people who don't really need anymore, gorging yourself on food 'till you're sick, throwing a couple of left over coins into a Salvation Army kettle, why do you pat yourself on the back for writing out all of the letters in Christmas instead of writing an abbreviation?
Perhaps you think you are doing baby Jesus a favor by honoring his holiday. But if your attitude, and actions are no different than those who don't recognize him, have you really honored him?
Yes, Jesus is the reason for the Season, but he's not the reason for mayhem incorporated into it.
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Scared Hands
I watched an interesting story on the news this morning. A man named Richard Edwards recently had a double hand transplant.
Now he reports that he's amazed by his new hands and often stares and contemplates them.
He said, "I just look at them to learn them. They have these scars, and I wonder. What did he do to get these scars?"
A great question to ask ourselves.
Now he reports that he's amazed by his new hands and often stares and contemplates them.
He said, "I just look at them to learn them. They have these scars, and I wonder. What did he do to get these scars?"
A great question to ask ourselves.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Creepy Crawlies and other Central American Excitements
This is the Scorpion that Shannon and I found in our room. Very big and very scary.
Guatemala also has some giant spiders, snakes that like to sleep on warm computers, and even offered us a small earthquake.
While we did miss a tropical storm, a hurricane, a volcanic eruption, and flooding, we did get to witness (and thankfully escape)the beginning of a shoot out on the way to the Capital, and a crime scene complete with yellow tape and corpses.
Yeah, definitely had some excitement on this trip.
I was happy to be home in Flint where we have neither critters nor shootings. lol
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Living a Better Story
Back in college a friend once asked me, “What’s your biggest fear?”
I remember my answer clearly. “I’m terrified that someday, I’ll be 90 years old, laying on my death bed and realize I’ve never done anything great in my life.”
Something within me way back then knew that life was meant to be something significant. And you’d think being able to articulate that at 20, that I’d be intentional about the things I’d do.
But maybe not.
I think perhaps at that age, we might all idealistically approach life that way,- That we are here for a purpose and our lives will make a difference.
But like so many others, I guess I thought that an exciting life would happen to me, while I was doing the routine, mundane, daily grind. The daily college life led to the daily career life.
Mondaytuesdaywednesdaythursdayfridaysaturdaysunday……lather, rinse, repeat.
Before I knew it, years had slipped by and nothing great had happened to me yet. Perhaps I would just need to wait a bit longer…..
Then I had my epiphany: I was bored in life.
While I loved my friends, my family, and even my teaching job, I recognized that if life was going to be exciting, I was going to have to make it exciting.
So, (much to my father’s chagrin) I sold off everything I owned, packed 4 suitcases and moved to Africa.
If you’d asked anyone around me, they would have all told you I was living this big, adventurous, life! I ran a large schooling program for AIDS orphans and vulnerable children! I slayed giant insects! I ate chicken intestines.
And while the years I lived in Africa were great and provided me (and you long-time readers) with some hilarious blog-fodder, after the initial excitement wore off, it was a new location to spend Monday thru Sunday.
Eventually I came home.
Now working and enrolled in grad school, …well, same thing, new city.
More years have passed….Early 30’s… Still nothing “great”.
So last February I read Donald Miller’s A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, and it really spoke to me. It’s the only book I’ve ever read where I thought to myself, “…damn...I should’ve bought this instead of just checking it out at the library.”
I read half, and then started again from the beginning because it was too good not to. And while I finished the end chapters, and read through the second time, I also started at the beginning again. I had to have 3 bookmarks throughout the book to keep my place for my multiple readings.
It just made sense to me.
Maybe it’s his simplicity of writing, maybe because he’s talking about things from a writer’s perspective, maybe it’s because I see myself in him when he’s “living the life he always wanted” and still recognizes something is missing, but I could relate to it.
There’s a scene when he writes about living as a writer and making up stories for a living. Then one day he goes to a coffee shop and sees a couple with a family and it occurs to him that while He’s been making up stories, others have been living their stories.
I think that’s the part I started to tear up.
I recognize now that the life I’ve been desiring to have all along is not simply about doing stuff, or even having an adventure, but an living an intentional life. Yes inevitably, it will include the daily grind, and living this way is bound to bring about some adventures, but it’s caused me to reflect on what I actually want to start doing in the midst of my Monday thru Sunday.
A few months ago Donald Miller posted the “what if” challenge on his blog. I thought to myself,” What if my character stopped saving random cats, and started to progress the story forward?”
This is what I’ve been slowly moving towards,- focused on the thing that has been heavy on my heart. “What if I actually started reaching out to some of these teenage girls in class who are slipping through the social cracks? What if I broke that unspoken rule that students and adults don’t mix? What if I started being an influence in their lives? What if I gave them the chance to live a better story?” This is the direction I’ve started as a short term story.
So I’ve been really hoping to attend the Living a Better Story seminar (with Donald Miller) in Portland in September. I’m thinking that it would give me additional encouragement to continue in the direction I’ve started to baby step. Maybe it can help me lead these teens along the way.
At the same time it terrifies me. I told my best friend “I’d like to go to this seminar… but I’m afraid it will mess me up. I’m afraid I’ll be wrecked for the ordinary.”
But isn’t facing conflict the best part of the story? You’ll root for my character won’t you?
.
I remember my answer clearly. “I’m terrified that someday, I’ll be 90 years old, laying on my death bed and realize I’ve never done anything great in my life.”
Something within me way back then knew that life was meant to be something significant. And you’d think being able to articulate that at 20, that I’d be intentional about the things I’d do.
But maybe not.
I think perhaps at that age, we might all idealistically approach life that way,- That we are here for a purpose and our lives will make a difference.
But like so many others, I guess I thought that an exciting life would happen to me, while I was doing the routine, mundane, daily grind. The daily college life led to the daily career life.
Mondaytuesdaywednesdaythursdayfridaysaturdaysunday……lather, rinse, repeat.
Before I knew it, years had slipped by and nothing great had happened to me yet. Perhaps I would just need to wait a bit longer…..
Then I had my epiphany: I was bored in life.
While I loved my friends, my family, and even my teaching job, I recognized that if life was going to be exciting, I was going to have to make it exciting.
So, (much to my father’s chagrin) I sold off everything I owned, packed 4 suitcases and moved to Africa.
If you’d asked anyone around me, they would have all told you I was living this big, adventurous, life! I ran a large schooling program for AIDS orphans and vulnerable children! I slayed giant insects! I ate chicken intestines.
And while the years I lived in Africa were great and provided me (and you long-time readers) with some hilarious blog-fodder, after the initial excitement wore off, it was a new location to spend Monday thru Sunday.
Eventually I came home.
Now working and enrolled in grad school, …well, same thing, new city.
More years have passed….Early 30’s… Still nothing “great”.
So last February I read Donald Miller’s A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, and it really spoke to me. It’s the only book I’ve ever read where I thought to myself, “…damn...I should’ve bought this instead of just checking it out at the library.”
I read half, and then started again from the beginning because it was too good not to. And while I finished the end chapters, and read through the second time, I also started at the beginning again. I had to have 3 bookmarks throughout the book to keep my place for my multiple readings.
It just made sense to me.
Maybe it’s his simplicity of writing, maybe because he’s talking about things from a writer’s perspective, maybe it’s because I see myself in him when he’s “living the life he always wanted” and still recognizes something is missing, but I could relate to it.
There’s a scene when he writes about living as a writer and making up stories for a living. Then one day he goes to a coffee shop and sees a couple with a family and it occurs to him that while He’s been making up stories, others have been living their stories.
I think that’s the part I started to tear up.
I recognize now that the life I’ve been desiring to have all along is not simply about doing stuff, or even having an adventure, but an living an intentional life. Yes inevitably, it will include the daily grind, and living this way is bound to bring about some adventures, but it’s caused me to reflect on what I actually want to start doing in the midst of my Monday thru Sunday.
A few months ago Donald Miller posted the “what if” challenge on his blog. I thought to myself,” What if my character stopped saving random cats, and started to progress the story forward?”
This is what I’ve been slowly moving towards,- focused on the thing that has been heavy on my heart. “What if I actually started reaching out to some of these teenage girls in class who are slipping through the social cracks? What if I broke that unspoken rule that students and adults don’t mix? What if I started being an influence in their lives? What if I gave them the chance to live a better story?” This is the direction I’ve started as a short term story.
So I’ve been really hoping to attend the Living a Better Story seminar (with Donald Miller) in Portland in September. I’m thinking that it would give me additional encouragement to continue in the direction I’ve started to baby step. Maybe it can help me lead these teens along the way.
At the same time it terrifies me. I told my best friend “I’d like to go to this seminar… but I’m afraid it will mess me up. I’m afraid I’ll be wrecked for the ordinary.”
But isn’t facing conflict the best part of the story? You’ll root for my character won’t you?
Living a Better Story Seminar from All Things Converge Podcast on Vimeo.
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Flood damage
I shot this picture down the ravine. You can see that shorts are were left behind as well as shoes and toys. Just evidence of all that was washed away in the flood.
These are picture of the damage done in the recent tropical storm and flooding. The edges of the river have just been destroyed, taking homes, and lives.
This is the water line, 1/2 way up the window. It lets you see just how bad the flooding was in the city.
temporary housing
So these are some of the temporary houses we helped with to allow these families a roof over their heads. A far cry from what they will have in a year, but it is 4 walls and a rood that keeps the rain out better than black plastic.
The widow's home
We spent a few days building and painting a house for this younge widow. She lost her husband in the flood, and now is living on the compound withher two small children. She's been given this house as well as employment to provide for herself, and protect her from men who might pose a threat to a younge woman.
Colocha
This is Colocha, a beautiful little girl at the mal-nutrition center. She was abandoned at birth and rescued.
Her name means "curly" and while she is a happy healthy baby, thriving at Hope for Life, still holding her in my arms made me cry.
She is doing well, but what about all of the babies who have yet to be rescued?
More More More
The Lord has really been pushing me to ask him for "More." I'm trying, but to be honest, I don't know what "more" is.
It reminds me of a story I read about Katheryn Kuhlman as a little girl. She'd stand behind her father and say "Daddy, give me a nickle." He'd pretend he didn't hear her and she'd ask again and again until he'd swoop around and pull her into his lap and give her a nickle. As an adult he recounted this story to her, and said, "My precious daughter. I would have given you anything you'd asked... you only limited yourself because you didnt'know to ask for more."
I can see this in myself,- like a little kid who things $100 is the biggest amount in the world,- enought to buy a candy bar and a house and a car.
But we all know there is so much more than $100!
God is telling me there is more than I've been asking for, more than I've been willing to accept.
I don't know what it is, but I'm asking for it!
It reminds me of a story I read about Katheryn Kuhlman as a little girl. She'd stand behind her father and say "Daddy, give me a nickle." He'd pretend he didn't hear her and she'd ask again and again until he'd swoop around and pull her into his lap and give her a nickle. As an adult he recounted this story to her, and said, "My precious daughter. I would have given you anything you'd asked... you only limited yourself because you didnt'know to ask for more."
I can see this in myself,- like a little kid who things $100 is the biggest amount in the world,- enought to buy a candy bar and a house and a car.
But we all know there is so much more than $100!
God is telling me there is more than I've been asking for, more than I've been willing to accept.
I don't know what it is, but I'm asking for it!
Monday, July 12, 2010
Representin'
Okay, I'm not done with the Guatemala stories, but I read this today and thought it was interesting.
1 Chron 22:7 "I wanted to build a Temple to honor the name of the Lord my God," David told him. "But the Lord said to me, 'You have killed many men in the great battles you have fought. And since you have shed so much blood before me, you will not be the one to build a Temple to honor my name. But you will have a son who will experience peace and rest. I will give him peace with his enemies in all the surrounding lands. His name will be Solomon and I will give peace and quiet to Isreal during his reign. He is the one who will build a Temple to honor my name......'"
David, was a man after God's own heart, but at the same time, God didn't want someone with a reputation as a killer to be the one to build his house of prayer,- he wanted someone with a reputation as a peacemaker.
Do you think you are building in the kingdom of God?
What is your reputation?
1 Chron 22:7 "I wanted to build a Temple to honor the name of the Lord my God," David told him. "But the Lord said to me, 'You have killed many men in the great battles you have fought. And since you have shed so much blood before me, you will not be the one to build a Temple to honor my name. But you will have a son who will experience peace and rest. I will give him peace with his enemies in all the surrounding lands. His name will be Solomon and I will give peace and quiet to Isreal during his reign. He is the one who will build a Temple to honor my name......'"
David, was a man after God's own heart, but at the same time, God didn't want someone with a reputation as a killer to be the one to build his house of prayer,- he wanted someone with a reputation as a peacemaker.
Do you think you are building in the kingdom of God?
What is your reputation?
Wednesday, July 07, 2010
Wilmer
One day this little boy approached our car when we stopped at the office.
"Como se llama?" I asked
"Wilmer," he responded with a crossed eyed smile.
You couldn't help but love him.
I gave him a stick of gum and he smiled bigger. Then he reached in the window and started rummaging through Michelle's bag, looking for candy.
The next day we went on a tour of the compound and stopped by the malnutrition center. This is for children who are malnourished, or abandoned. For 6 out of 10 children it is too late by the time they arrive. too much damage has been done to their little bodies, and they don't make it. But for those who do, the transformation is amazing. Their before and after pictures are displayed in the hallway. It almost brought tears to my eyes when I saw this:
Our little gum chomper had been rescued himself. I'd never had guessed if I hadn't seen the picture myself.
that really just sealed in my heart the importance of the ministry that was being done in Zacapa.
This is baby Mario. He's an unbelievable 7 months old.
And here are several of our girls with babies and toddlers of various ages.
"Como se llama?" I asked
"Wilmer," he responded with a crossed eyed smile.
You couldn't help but love him.
I gave him a stick of gum and he smiled bigger. Then he reached in the window and started rummaging through Michelle's bag, looking for candy.
The next day we went on a tour of the compound and stopped by the malnutrition center. This is for children who are malnourished, or abandoned. For 6 out of 10 children it is too late by the time they arrive. too much damage has been done to their little bodies, and they don't make it. But for those who do, the transformation is amazing. Their before and after pictures are displayed in the hallway. It almost brought tears to my eyes when I saw this:
Our little gum chomper had been rescued himself. I'd never had guessed if I hadn't seen the picture myself.
that really just sealed in my heart the importance of the ministry that was being done in Zacapa.
This is baby Mario. He's an unbelievable 7 months old.
And here are several of our girls with babies and toddlers of various ages.
Guatemala Stories
Okay Okay,now a bit about the guatemala trip....
Guatemala was a beautiful country combining my favorite parts of my favorite countries. Guatemala city reminded me a lot of Maputu, Mozambique, but Zacapa was mountainous like Swaziland. And of course the people were lovely and gracious like the Brazilians so it was a triple win!
But this trip was by far the hardest trip I've been on,- mentally, physically, emotionally. However I'm not affraid of a challenge. I know "suffering" is the place where were are tested, challenged, and grow, so I tried to take it all in with a good attitude.
The temperatures and humidity were both high and a lot of days were were working outside. In addition, our beginning living quarters were more like bunkers with community bathrooms,- and y'all know how I am with my downtime and personal space. This was fixin' to drive me crazy!
But through it all I had to keep in mind, the advice Ben Rogers gave me back in Swaziland, "A good servant isn't offended when she's treated like a servant" So many times I'll do a task and get it done, but it would never be considered serving. Serving is an attitude. Serving is excellence. Serving is Humility.
This was the question that kept rising up in my spirit.
Will you serve me?
Will you serve me when you are hot?
Will you serve me when you are tired?
Will you serve me when you are sick?
Will you serve me when the task doesn't seem like 'ministry'?
Will you serve me when someone one else gets all the credit?
Will you serve me?
All of these were hard, but I know I'm better because of meeting the challenge.
Monday, July 05, 2010
Just my opinion, don't send me death threats
I'll say it.
I'll blaspheme.
I know I will offend most of you. A few of you will end our friendship. Some of you might even threaten my life, or the life of my cat.
But I can no longer stay silent.
I don't understand the appeal of Twilight.
I've heard women from 9 years to-50 years rave about the stories. Even a few guys.
So I thought I'd at least give it a shot. I got the first book from the library. And now after 3 weeks and 350 pages, I'm bored.
It's slow, repetative, I can't quite figure out what the plot is suppose to be, and it's kinda scary.
No, not vampire scary, but Edwards-gets-bored-at-night-and-watches-Bella-sleep scary. When I was in high school we called that stalking. Now it's called love.
I've heard so much about the love story, and I don't really see a love story here. I see an obsession and a struggle over self control.
Some women (and I'm talking grown women here) have expressed a desire for a man, like Edward, who would give up everything, and deny themselves because they are so in love a woman.
If that's you,( and I say this 100% judgement free) then put down the Twilight series, and pick up your Bibles. Read Hosea, read John. The love story is true, better, and has a happier ending. :0)
Now don't get me wrong, I'm not one those nay-sayers who think books like these are evil and will destroy our civilization. Maybe it can even be of some good if it helps you to recognize an unfulfilled longing within yourself. I hope you all find what you're looking for, I do.
But I think the problem is that women read books like these, or watch chick flicks and beleive that people like this exist (I'm talking about romantics not vampires) and that if they could only meet him then their lives would be happy.
But they never pursuit the one relationship that can truely make them happy. And that's why these twi-hards make me so sad.
I'll blaspheme.
I know I will offend most of you. A few of you will end our friendship. Some of you might even threaten my life, or the life of my cat.
But I can no longer stay silent.
I don't understand the appeal of Twilight.
I've heard women from 9 years to-50 years rave about the stories. Even a few guys.
So I thought I'd at least give it a shot. I got the first book from the library. And now after 3 weeks and 350 pages, I'm bored.
It's slow, repetative, I can't quite figure out what the plot is suppose to be, and it's kinda scary.
No, not vampire scary, but Edwards-gets-bored-at-night-and-watches-Bella-sleep scary. When I was in high school we called that stalking. Now it's called love.
I've heard so much about the love story, and I don't really see a love story here. I see an obsession and a struggle over self control.
Some women (and I'm talking grown women here) have expressed a desire for a man, like Edward, who would give up everything, and deny themselves because they are so in love a woman.
If that's you,( and I say this 100% judgement free) then put down the Twilight series, and pick up your Bibles. Read Hosea, read John. The love story is true, better, and has a happier ending. :0)
Now don't get me wrong, I'm not one those nay-sayers who think books like these are evil and will destroy our civilization. Maybe it can even be of some good if it helps you to recognize an unfulfilled longing within yourself. I hope you all find what you're looking for, I do.
But I think the problem is that women read books like these, or watch chick flicks and beleive that people like this exist (I'm talking about romantics not vampires) and that if they could only meet him then their lives would be happy.
But they never pursuit the one relationship that can truely make them happy. And that's why these twi-hards make me so sad.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Why is he such a great opera singer?
I was listening to an opera singer this morning. Ben Somebody. He's suppose to be good,- really good. One of the best in the world actually. So I gave him a chance.
To me it sounded like opera. La La LAAAAAHHHHHH!
But I don't know why this guy was great.
Not that he sounded bad, don't get me wrong. He didn't hit any sour notes or anything. But what is it that makes him greater than any other Joe Opera?
I'm not familiar with opera, and my ear's never been trained like the critics so anyone singing lah lah lah would sound good to me, so long as they weren't drastically bad. Tell me anyone was the best in the world and I'd gullibility believe you 'cause I don't know the standard.
I think that's a problem with people in many ways. Just look at American Idol. Lots of people go on there thinking they sound good. Maybe someone even told them they sound good. And maybe to me they're not too bad. But the ones who are trained in this stuff, who make it their business to know the standards, it's all off.
I'm thinking about all of this stuff in light of my own spirituality. I've been reflecting and questioning a lot of my spirituality these last few months.
I usually think I'm a pretty good person.
But why?
Is it because I don't hit a majorly wrong note? Or because other people seem to think I'm pretty good. Or because I do "good things" like go to church.
But I know when I look at the standard of what is right, or "true religion" as the Bible discribes it, I often fall short.
Am I walking in love? Am I caring for the widows and orphans? Am I sacrificing for others? Am I patient?
Often the answer is no.
Maybe I'm not a great as I think I am.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
meet & greet
I haven’t been to my lady doctor appointment in 3 years. So I figured I should probably go.
I got a recommendation for a good doctor here in GB from a few friends. I called for an appointment.
“Well, first we have to have a meet & greet appointment,” the receptionist told me.
Is this like an audition? Do I have to prepare interview questions? Who exactly is interviewing whom? I wondered.
So we met & gret, and she explained “I simply like to do this first so new patients can come and see the office, and ask any questions they might have of me, and that way they can feel comfortable.
I really appreciate that.
I do.
But she’s a lady doctor. I don’t care how many meets & greets we do. I will never feel comfortable with her.I will never lie there in a paper gown with my feet up in stirrups thinking to myself, “Wow! This isn’t awkward at all. I’m so glad that we sat down together for 15 minutes. This might have been horrible, but now it’s kinda like a girl’s-night-in”
I hope they don’t bill my insurance for that.
I got a recommendation for a good doctor here in GB from a few friends. I called for an appointment.
“Well, first we have to have a meet & greet appointment,” the receptionist told me.
Is this like an audition? Do I have to prepare interview questions? Who exactly is interviewing whom? I wondered.
So we met & gret, and she explained “I simply like to do this first so new patients can come and see the office, and ask any questions they might have of me, and that way they can feel comfortable.
I really appreciate that.
I do.
But she’s a lady doctor. I don’t care how many meets & greets we do. I will never feel comfortable with her.I will never lie there in a paper gown with my feet up in stirrups thinking to myself, “Wow! This isn’t awkward at all. I’m so glad that we sat down together for 15 minutes. This might have been horrible, but now it’s kinda like a girl’s-night-in”
I hope they don’t bill my insurance for that.
Saturday, May 01, 2010
Just thinking outloud
Mory is one of my Kind gardeners.
A very chatty character.
I've noticed over the school year that he's now being raised in the Muslim faith. (I don't think this was always the case but I'm not 100% sure. I mean he's 6 so you can't always figure these things out.)
Anyway the other day as we were working together we started talking about Allah (which I know is simply the Arabic word for God)and how he was angry.
"No, Mory, I don't think Allah is angry at you. I think he loves us very much."
"No! he is." he insisted. "You have to pray down like this" he showed me how he kneels down, bowing low to pray. "You have to pray everyday."
"I do pray Mory. But I don't bow like that, I just sit up."
"Yes, that's how Americans pray. But, Africans, we have to pray like this" (again, he's only 6, so he's associated America with Christianity and Africa with Islam)
"If you don't, then Allah will take you tongue like this, (putting it out) and he'll pound a nail through it. He'll crush on you. He'll pound you like 'Boom Boom'" (not really sure if this is in the Koran or if this is just what he's been told. Like how a kid might be told by his Catholic mother that he'll go to hell if he gets a tattoo. )
But Mory, being the animated character that he is, was enthusiastically pounding his fist and making God's angry face. And then it kinda dawned on him,- dawned on him what he was saying, and how that effected me. He got very somber.
It's like he realized the 'bad guy' that would be pounded, would be me.
"So you have to pray. Okay? Okay, Miss Merrill? Just sometimes... sometimes pray like that okay?"
Only the thing is, the thing that I couldn't articulate to this six year old, it that I'm not afraid of that happening, because I don't believe that's God's character.
On the way home I started wondering about people who live far from God and how they interact with Christians. I guess if the only message they ever heard of is "repent or go to hell" they would no more believe it than I did with Mory.
Several of my students are Muslim, and it's been interesting talking with them and learning about their faith. (the older ones are more articulate than a kindergartner) But sometimes I wonder what they think about me. Do they think I'm a bad person because I eat pork or because I don't cover my head when I pray. None of them have ever said anything like that, but I wonder if they judge me.
but what about my non-christian friends? Do they wonder what I think about them? Do they fear that I secretly judge them?
A very chatty character.
I've noticed over the school year that he's now being raised in the Muslim faith. (I don't think this was always the case but I'm not 100% sure. I mean he's 6 so you can't always figure these things out.)
Anyway the other day as we were working together we started talking about Allah (which I know is simply the Arabic word for God)and how he was angry.
"No, Mory, I don't think Allah is angry at you. I think he loves us very much."
"No! he is." he insisted. "You have to pray down like this" he showed me how he kneels down, bowing low to pray. "You have to pray everyday."
"I do pray Mory. But I don't bow like that, I just sit up."
"Yes, that's how Americans pray. But, Africans, we have to pray like this" (again, he's only 6, so he's associated America with Christianity and Africa with Islam)
"If you don't, then Allah will take you tongue like this, (putting it out) and he'll pound a nail through it. He'll crush on you. He'll pound you like 'Boom Boom'" (not really sure if this is in the Koran or if this is just what he's been told. Like how a kid might be told by his Catholic mother that he'll go to hell if he gets a tattoo. )
But Mory, being the animated character that he is, was enthusiastically pounding his fist and making God's angry face. And then it kinda dawned on him,- dawned on him what he was saying, and how that effected me. He got very somber.
It's like he realized the 'bad guy' that would be pounded, would be me.
"So you have to pray. Okay? Okay, Miss Merrill? Just sometimes... sometimes pray like that okay?"
Only the thing is, the thing that I couldn't articulate to this six year old, it that I'm not afraid of that happening, because I don't believe that's God's character.
On the way home I started wondering about people who live far from God and how they interact with Christians. I guess if the only message they ever heard of is "repent or go to hell" they would no more believe it than I did with Mory.
Several of my students are Muslim, and it's been interesting talking with them and learning about their faith. (the older ones are more articulate than a kindergartner) But sometimes I wonder what they think about me. Do they think I'm a bad person because I eat pork or because I don't cover my head when I pray. None of them have ever said anything like that, but I wonder if they judge me.
but what about my non-christian friends? Do they wonder what I think about them? Do they fear that I secretly judge them?
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Children of God
I'm reading for my psychology class today about the development of morals in early children. I found this interesting.
Piaget noted that young children have their design of morality around the concepts of rules that are established by an authority. They are absolute.
This makes sense if you 've ever tried to watch 2 young children play a game. "You can't to that...it's the rules." It also works if you are the authority. "Because I said so" is enough to get a response. It's as if in their little brains, it's not possible to be disobedient.
However the next step is for children to figure out that "rules" are flexible and don't necessarily have to be followed. Maybe this is where rebellion is developed. They see it is possible to not do it. "Mom says..." does not have the same effect it use to.
But Piaget's third phase of moral development happens when children develop playmates for cooperation. There is a morality of reciprocity and not just obedience.
This is when relationships occur. Children play and work together in ways, not because it is a rule, or because mom says,but because it enhances the quality of the relationship.
I recognize how much my faith has develops like this. How about you? We've all known new Christian who is so excited to learn and share all the rules?
You can't get drunk. You can't have sex. You can't tell lies. Why? Because God says so. It's the rules.
But somewhere down the line we figure out....umm, yeah, you actually can. You can do whatever you really want to, regardless of what God says. You don't have to be obedient.
But finally we begin to develop a relationship with Him, that is actually a relationship. It occurs if we learn the morality of reciprocity and not just obedience.
It's no longer about rules. It's about enhancing the quality or relationship with Him.
Interesting
Piaget noted that young children have their design of morality around the concepts of rules that are established by an authority. They are absolute.
This makes sense if you 've ever tried to watch 2 young children play a game. "You can't to that...it's the rules." It also works if you are the authority. "Because I said so" is enough to get a response. It's as if in their little brains, it's not possible to be disobedient.
However the next step is for children to figure out that "rules" are flexible and don't necessarily have to be followed. Maybe this is where rebellion is developed. They see it is possible to not do it. "Mom says..." does not have the same effect it use to.
But Piaget's third phase of moral development happens when children develop playmates for cooperation. There is a morality of reciprocity and not just obedience.
This is when relationships occur. Children play and work together in ways, not because it is a rule, or because mom says,but because it enhances the quality of the relationship.
I recognize how much my faith has develops like this. How about you? We've all known new Christian who is so excited to learn and share all the rules?
You can't get drunk. You can't have sex. You can't tell lies. Why? Because God says so. It's the rules.
But somewhere down the line we figure out....umm, yeah, you actually can. You can do whatever you really want to, regardless of what God says. You don't have to be obedient.
But finally we begin to develop a relationship with Him, that is actually a relationship. It occurs if we learn the morality of reciprocity and not just obedience.
It's no longer about rules. It's about enhancing the quality or relationship with Him.
Interesting
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Cathartic
I was awakened by my cell phone ringing. Before I was fully conscious I was down the stairs and fishing it out from the bottom of my purse.
Bryan calling it read.
“Bless his heart” I thought. “He doesn’t realize it’s 2 am here in Swaziland.”
But he did realize.
“We’ve had to take dad to the hospice center…. unresponsive….”
I was surprised at my calm. “Are you telling me it’s time to come home?”
“Sweetie, the nurses say he won’t make it 24 hours. There’s no time for you to come home…you need to say your good-byes now on the cell phone.”
I told him I’d just woken up. I needed a second to shake the sleep out of my head, - had to go pee. I told him I would call him back.
I calmly closed the phone.
How do you say goodbye? I wondered. Numb and dazed I wandered to the bathroom. The numb began to fade and I began to cry. I wasn’t ready to let go. I was planning on going home to see him one last time.
I scolded myself for crying now when I needed to put myself together. I needed to be strong for him one last time. I didn’t want him to worry about me. I wanted to assure him I’d be okay.
I dried my tears, steeled my spine and dialed 13 digits into my brother’s pocket.
He put the phone to my dad’s ear. “It’s Christy” he said, and my dad lifted his head to listen.
“He can’t talk” Bryan had warned me, “But he’s aware.”
How do you say goodbye?
I couldn’t do it.
So I prayed instead.
I thanked Jesus for giving him to me as my dad, and released him back into His care.
And I assured dad that I would be alright.
I ended the conversation with my brother’s promise to call me every few hours.
By 6am he was gone.
Susan came quickly to comfort me. She was the only one I could bear to face. Her quiet strength and peaceful heart were my support.
She just listened.
And I’ll never forget the deep sadness I felt as I pulled back the heavy drapes in my dining room, revealing a beautiful sunrise and beautiful exotic flowers blooming in the Africa beyond them.
Oh how he loved flowers.
I began to weep again.
It’s going to be such a beautiful day here on Earth… and he won’t be here to see it.
But almost as an afterthought came the realization, He does see it, but just from another angle. He can still enjoy the beauty of creation.
I had to smile at the thought of him walking mile after mile of gloriously created gardens, with blooms that never wither. Now he can walk as far as he’d like, and not lose his breath or have to rest.
I’ve have missed him often these past 2 years,-when the daffodils bloomed, when the garden grew like crap, when the horses ran around the race track, when I found his childhood stocking at the bottom of the box of decorations, when Jack Nicholson vomited in The Bucket List, when I play Farmville….
I miss him still.
Bryan calling it read.
“Bless his heart” I thought. “He doesn’t realize it’s 2 am here in Swaziland.”
But he did realize.
“We’ve had to take dad to the hospice center…. unresponsive….”
I was surprised at my calm. “Are you telling me it’s time to come home?”
“Sweetie, the nurses say he won’t make it 24 hours. There’s no time for you to come home…you need to say your good-byes now on the cell phone.”
I told him I’d just woken up. I needed a second to shake the sleep out of my head, - had to go pee. I told him I would call him back.
I calmly closed the phone.
How do you say goodbye? I wondered. Numb and dazed I wandered to the bathroom. The numb began to fade and I began to cry. I wasn’t ready to let go. I was planning on going home to see him one last time.
I scolded myself for crying now when I needed to put myself together. I needed to be strong for him one last time. I didn’t want him to worry about me. I wanted to assure him I’d be okay.
I dried my tears, steeled my spine and dialed 13 digits into my brother’s pocket.
He put the phone to my dad’s ear. “It’s Christy” he said, and my dad lifted his head to listen.
“He can’t talk” Bryan had warned me, “But he’s aware.”
How do you say goodbye?
I couldn’t do it.
So I prayed instead.
I thanked Jesus for giving him to me as my dad, and released him back into His care.
And I assured dad that I would be alright.
I ended the conversation with my brother’s promise to call me every few hours.
By 6am he was gone.
Susan came quickly to comfort me. She was the only one I could bear to face. Her quiet strength and peaceful heart were my support.
She just listened.
And I’ll never forget the deep sadness I felt as I pulled back the heavy drapes in my dining room, revealing a beautiful sunrise and beautiful exotic flowers blooming in the Africa beyond them.
Oh how he loved flowers.
I began to weep again.
It’s going to be such a beautiful day here on Earth… and he won’t be here to see it.
But almost as an afterthought came the realization, He does see it, but just from another angle. He can still enjoy the beauty of creation.
I had to smile at the thought of him walking mile after mile of gloriously created gardens, with blooms that never wither. Now he can walk as far as he’d like, and not lose his breath or have to rest.
I’ve have missed him often these past 2 years,-when the daffodils bloomed, when the garden grew like crap, when the horses ran around the race track, when I found his childhood stocking at the bottom of the box of decorations, when Jack Nicholson vomited in The Bucket List, when I play Farmville….
I miss him still.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
I know it's been a long time. Nothing to write about...and that's a problem in more ways than one.
I'm currently reading Donald Miller's A Million Miles in a Thousand Years. If you haven't you should. 1,- because it's a good book and 2- because none of this will make sence if you haven't read it.
But this book speaks to my heart. I can relate to writing all of my ideas on paper only to find that others have been living their lives in reality as I lived mine on a computer screen. I can relate to wanting a bigger story. I can relate to saving a few cats, but thinking,- what for? The audience will root for me, but is the audience rooting for?
I need a bigger story. Well acutally, I feel like I need a story period. I've ceased to live life since coming home. Hence the lack of blogs.
No Donald Miller, if you are reading this, I don't need life to write, just the opposite. But it's the lack of enthusiasm caused by living life that had kept me from writing.
I don't know how my big story should go, but I've known for years that it's out there. I'm looking for it. And in the meantime I'm hunting for creative scenes.
(See, I told you it wouldn't make sence)
I'm currently reading Donald Miller's A Million Miles in a Thousand Years. If you haven't you should. 1,- because it's a good book and 2- because none of this will make sence if you haven't read it.
But this book speaks to my heart. I can relate to writing all of my ideas on paper only to find that others have been living their lives in reality as I lived mine on a computer screen. I can relate to wanting a bigger story. I can relate to saving a few cats, but thinking,- what for? The audience will root for me, but is the audience rooting for?
I need a bigger story. Well acutally, I feel like I need a story period. I've ceased to live life since coming home. Hence the lack of blogs.
No Donald Miller, if you are reading this, I don't need life to write, just the opposite. But it's the lack of enthusiasm caused by living life that had kept me from writing.
I don't know how my big story should go, but I've known for years that it's out there. I'm looking for it. And in the meantime I'm hunting for creative scenes.
(See, I told you it wouldn't make sence)
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