Come Ye Thankful People, Come

When I got to my parents’ house yesterday my mother greeted me by saying, “You’re just in time.”  This could mean many things when my mother is involved, so I was a little worried.  It turns out I was in time to help them move things from their garage to the attic.  My dad climbed into the attic, I stood on the ladder, and my mom handed me various items they wouldn’t need for a while.

The animated light-up reindeer came down the ladder, and the medical supplies went up.  A year ago, a couple college students had been moving these Christmas decorations. My dad was recovering from the second of four surgeries he would have in a 9-month span.  But yesterday he was climbing around in the attic, storing the chairs he’d needed for his recovery. My mom was happy to see them go—she, too, had used them throughout the summer while recovering from hip replacement.  As I left them later, it occurred to me how great it is that they have both recovered and are enjoying active lives again--especially my retired mother...

As this is the time of year for giving thanks and reflecting on the Father’s many blessings, I am overwhelmed with gratitude for the healing my parents experienced this summer.  It probably annoys them that I treat them like they’re made of glass these days, but they are so much fun to have around, I want to make sure they’re here for a while.

Thankfully, the One I trust for my parents’ health (and my own!) is not fragile like we are and He promises us eternity with Him and with each other.  For now, though, I look forward to a couple days at the beach with my parents and a family trip to Disney World in 209 days.

It's All Coming Back to Me Now

This blog tends to be kind of introspective and serious.  I feel this pressure to not say anything if I can't say something deep.  Today, I throw all of that out the window.

These epic music videos made me late for class for most of my junior year of college.  They also involve motorcycles, heartbreak and deserted mansions.

 

Is it me, or does Celine's hairbrush foreshadow Titanic?

This one gets the PG-13 rating.  VH1 did a fine job editing it back in the day.

 

This modern retelling of A Star is Born gave us Tyson Beckford (thank you!) and sent me running to the video store to rent the Streisand/Kristofferson movie (no thank you!).

I Got Them Moves, Mick Jagger

There is something kind of awesome about watching a person do what he or she is meant to be doing.  Maybe this is what has always drawn me to pro sports.  There's something beautiful about a pitcher throwing a no-hitter, or a perfectly-executed pass resulting in a goal.  When I see SportsCenter's Top 10, I can't look away.
To matters more close-at-hand, there are some instructors at my gym who are excellent.  They don't spend a lot of time talking, they don't guilt you into responding to questions like, "Are you warm yet!?", they make "increased weight factor" sound like a good thing and they make complicated dance steps look smooth.  When I'm in their classes, I get a great workout, but I also get to see someone who is in that sweet spot.
How many of us really get to earn a living in the sweet spot?  How many of us wake up in the morning and fill our days with the activity about which we are most passionate?  How many of us can do what we were born to do and put food on the table?  I would guess the answer is some of us, but not many.
I get that work is supposed to be hard.  It's in the Bible, the land is cursed and we will have to toil and sweat to survive on it.  The thing is, I don't mind working hard if I believe in the cause.  This morning, for instance, it was monsooning outside.  I had been up late last night, but woke up early on this rainy Saturday so that I could run a few errands.  I hydroplaned my way along the highway to reach the farmers' market, got wet and dirty carrying mums to my car and I was singing the whole way.  Why?  Because my errands and my early wake-up call were for a women's ministry breakfast happening at church today.  I was excited to get there and to pull together the last-minute details.  There were extra hours at church this week setting up and tearing down this breakfast, but I didn't mind.
In contrast, my other job also had me working long hours this week.  Meetings, workshops, and paperwork have filled my days.  What can't be done at work gets carried home.  There hasn't been a moment this month when I have been officially caught-up and I hate it.  I feel like a cute little hamster running running running on a wheel that goes nowhere.  I've lost passion for what I do, even though I know I'm good at it.  It doesn't matter if you're good when the people above you constantly remind you that you're not good enough.
So when I see a fitness instructor dancing her heart out, smiling and sweating away, I think about that sweet spot and I wonder how I am going to get there.

Dear God, Don't Let Me Fall Apart

I’ve been in a strange place lately—and I don’t mean Milwaukee. I mean, for the past week or so, I’ve cried at least once a day. Thursday’s tears lasted for an entire 30-minute car ride, but most days they’ve only lasted a couple minutes. A friend of mine texted me on Thursday to ask if I was OK (she’d seen me after the teary ride to work) and my response was, “I think I’m getting soft.”

Confidence hasn’t really been a problem for me—except for those two God-forsaken years in middle school. Competence hasn’t really been a problem for me, either, so waking up in the morning, riddled with anxiety and fear, has really taken me by surprise. My usual approach to work and to ministry has been to speak loudly and carry a big stick, but lately, facing my job has shaken me. Add to that the new responsibilities of overseeing my church’s women’s ministry and…oh my goodness…

As awful as these weeks have been, I am not ready to leave this place where I am so acutely aware of my need for a mighty God. The alarm goes off and I want to pull the madras bedspread over my head and hide, but then I start praying, pleading, begging—God, get me through this day. Help me to be good enough for these people I’m working with. Help me not to lose control.

At the end of every day, I’ve been taking stock: There weren’t any brawls. I didn’t say anything hurtful. I accomplished some items on the to-do list. And, more than ever before, I know that those victories did not come about because of my ability or my preparation. They happened because my God took care of me.

It’s a strange thing for me to see God showing up and fighting for me. Of course He has been forever, but the problem with being independent is that I am more likely to give myself credit for the day’s win. Being a useless weakling has stirred in me an incredible affection for this One who steps into my reality and carries me through these days that I simply cannot face on my own.

At some point, my life will become predictable again. Once the tears dry up, I will start believing that it’s my self-discipline or my fancy education that has brought me here. When I overlook the dependence, I will also miss the closeness and the affection. The trick is to stay dependent without being a total mess.

When the Walls Come Tumblin' Down

Over the summer, I was meeting with a friend of mine who is a senior in college. She asked me where my passion for women’s ministry came from. The question took me by surprise. I don’t think anyone had ever asked me that before. So I sat there, in the most darling dessert place, trying to figure out just how I got to be so passionate about ministering to women.

When I first came to this town I found instant community with a group of young, single people. Over the years, those people moved away or went to other churches. After two years here, I was left with no friends. I’m not exaggerating. I would pass my weekends alone at home. It was also during this time that I participated in a mentor-training class at my church. In that class, I got to know some women I would not have met otherwise and I began seeing possibilities for relationship in places where I might not have looked two years earlier. I was getting friendly with women who were older than me, who were married, who were my age but had kids—none of my new friends were like me.

The mentor-training class did not solve the problem of my empty social calendar, but it did shine light on a lie I’d been believing—that I could only be friends with people like me. We women are so good at isolating ourselves. We excel at comparing ourselves to other women and thinking, “I could never be friends with her because…”

What I dream for women’s ministry to be is an opportunity for us to take down some of the walls we create. Titus 2 tells us that women’s ministry should include all generations. There’s great benefit in having a group of girlfriends who get the season of life you’re in, but there’s also benefit in learning from a woman a few seasons ahead, or in reaching out to a younger woman.

Fast-forward to this weekend. I had all kinds of fun things to do and, not once, was I with another single thirty-something woman. Friday night, my late-twenties-married-with-a-kid friend and I had a low-key night on the town. Saturday morning, my house roared with laughter as a “think tank” of women from church sat around my living room. There was a grandmother, moms in their thirties, moms in their twenties, a twenty-something single friend and my aforementioned college friend. It was life-giving to talk with them about women’s ministry at our new church, and to swoon with them as my handsome neighbor pressure-washed his house.

The night was topped off with a 40th birthday party for a friend, joyfully celebrated by a bunch of women who all remembered The Love Boat and Mary Lou Retton. As I sat at that table, I was so thankful to be there. I was so thankful I wasn’t sitting at home thinking, “I could never be friends with them…they drive minivans and have kids.”

There really is more that unites us than divides us—especially if we are in the body of Christ. No one should feel like she has to do life by herself. My passion for women’s ministry is to help us find relationships that build, encourage and strengthen us and, most of all, to keep us from isolating ourselves.

London Calling

Our flight from Raleigh to Boston was delayed causing us to miss our flight to London. We spent a long, cold night in the Boston airport, but we managed to have fun with it.


During the week we helped run a Kids Club for the neighborhood kids. Almost all of them were from South-Asian, Hindu families.


The students on our team made fast friends with teenagers from the neighborhood and with students from the other team serving with us.



On our last day we went sightseeing in central London. We toured Westminster Abbey and stopped by Buckingham Palace and Trafalgar Square.



Most of the team visited the Tower of London, but Josh, Hannah and I saw Les Miserables and it was awesome.



It was a busy week, but we got along well, worked hard and had a great time.

Do You Believe in Magic?

I don’t know how I managed for so long to live in this age of movie sequels without attending a midnight showing. So tonight (this morning?), I crossed it off my bucket list by attending the 12:01 showing of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 with my good friend Laura.

The purpose of this post is not so much to discuss the movie, as it is to comment on the experience of joining so many devotees for the final chapter of this epic story. I will say that I loved the books. I devoured each one so quickly that I immediately forgot 90% of what happened. For this reason, the movies never disappoint me. If someone turned to me and said, “I can’t believe they left out the part where Wayne Gretzky rides through the Enchanted Forest on a Vespa”, I’d probably just nod politely.

Laura and I began our preparations a week ago, purchasing tickets online. Tonight, we helped our friend Hannah pack for her cross-county move and talked about how we could best keep ourselves energized for the night’s adventure. First, we stopped in a grocery store and stocked up on snacks. While there, we met a woman from church who had just dropped off her son at the theater two hours early.

Next it was on to Starbucks. It was here that we felt the first ripples of Potter-mania. High school and college students talking animatedly as they sipped their iced coffees. In walked a young lady wearing a necktie with a lightning bolt drawn on her head. One of her friends sported the symbol of the deathly hallows on her hand.

We arrived at the theater about 90 minutes early, only to find the house packed. It was here we had the best opportunity to observe those around us. Costumes were bountiful and there were some hits and misses. Luna Lovegood in the restroom—win. Girls in neckties—bleh. Kid in Quidditch gear sprinting through the lobby—well-played. Gryffindor lion girl—you looked more like a werewolf, maybe you could trot out that costume when Breaking Dawn opens? One poor soul, dressed as a Death Eater complete with mask, was asked by the security guard to remove his mask while in the building. Our favorite costume belonged to a college student dressed in white feathers. Hedwig, we salute you. There were many more, including some young ladies who made it difficult to tell if they were in costume or simply overdressed.

We smooshed together in line—a line Laura and I could have organized far better than the overwrought theater staff. A mean girl butted in front of us. Middle schoolers jostled Laura. Scars drawn on foreheads abounded—it looked like Ash Wednesday mass had just let out.




Finally our tickets were taken and we had to choose which of the six theaters we wanted to sit in (six more on the other side of the building were already full). We opted for one that had a small line of people waiting, instead of one immediately available. We chose well and got two seats by themselves with plenty of space to be had. As we waited, I noticed the sorting hat sitting on the floor beside me.


The previews were lackluster, but the movie was fun. The audience cheered at pivotal moments and when it all ended.

And so here I am, at 3:14 in the morning, wide awake from all the caffeine and sugar I’ve consumed. When I do drift off tonight, though, I will do so safe in the knowledge that good conquers evil.