Making a Difference

This is going to be a rare post.  Not rare in terms of time between writings - although that seems to be true as well - but rare in terms of content.  There are some topics that I tend to shy away from when I write.  Often, my hesitancy is due to my lack of knowledge on the subject. At times, it has been because of the position I held as part of a church staff.  In this instance, my hesitancy has always been the divisive nature of the topic – politics.

Before you shut your laptop, start a game on your tablet or check the email on your phone, I hope that you will give me a chance.  It’s really not as much about politics as it is about the culture of America.  As one person, I cannot change the political climate. Yes.  I can vote to make my voice heard – and I do.  One voice in nearly 57,600,000.  According to some reports that is approximately 30% of the number of voters who were eligible vote in 2016.  That would make my voice one in 192,000,000 (if my math is correct).  So, how do I make a real difference?  Make people think.  You may agree with me – you may not, but sharing ideas and thoughts are where real change happens.  It is the mindset of 192,000,000 people that makes the difference.

For my international friends who may not know, our President is in the process of nominating a new justice to serve on our Supreme Court.  The candidate he has selected has been accused of sexual misconduct when he was in high school.  Sexual misconduct is wrong. Black and white. No arguments here. My concern is with the timing of the accusation.

Here is a quote from the victim given during the Senate hearing.

“I am here because I believe it is my civic duty to tell you what happened to me while Brett Kavanaugh and I were in high school.”

…my civic duty… Judge Kavanaugh has been involved in the political arena since the Clinton era. He has served in the district court of DC since 2006, and according to Politico, he brought with him a “a long record of jurisprudence.”  Where was the “civic duty” during his tenure prior to this nomination?

Once again, let me be clear. Sexual assault and sexual misconduct are wrong.  My problem with this issue is that it apparently wasn’t wrong for most people until it was convenient.  If it is wrong now that he is a Supreme Court nominee, it was wrong when he was selected for his first bench. Why was it not brought forth at that time?  We need to be holding our state and local officials to the same standards as our national officials.  If we truly want to get the sludge out of our government – both republican and democrat – we need to stop allowing it to get that far.

All that being said, it comes down to an issue of integrity, both of the candidates and voters.  There is no one without sin, but until we start living our everyday lives as people of integrity, we can only expect more allegations to be made – substantiated and unsubstantiated.  We need to be the difference makers.

Two Stoplights

Perception is everything, or so it seems. We've all seen fabulous photographs on Facebook or social media that we later find out were just a trick of lighting, a well placed camera angle or a beautiful job of PhotoShop. Even in communication, it is not so much what you say as what others perceive you said that matters most.

I was thinking about this today as I drove to my church. I live approximately 12 miles from there, and the time to make the trip ranges from 17-23 minutes (according to Google Maps). I was excited to realize this morning that one of the routes I take only has two stoplights! The distance didn't change. The amount of time it takes me to travel that route didn't change.  My perception changed. That has to be the best route because it has only two stop lights!

I was reminded of a friend. We met in MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers). She had moved here from the Washington DC area, and I had moved here from Dayton area. Fort Wayne is a relatively small town. Although it is the second largest city in Indiana, compared to the likes of NYC, or Los Angeles, we are a small town. In fact we are 74th on the list of largest cities in the US.

My friend, who lived "on the other side of Fort Wayne", shared with me that a lot of her friends in MOPS wouldn't do things on her side of town because she lived "so far away." We laughed about it because where we came from it wasn't unusual for it to be a 20-30 minute drive to get to just about anywhere due to distance and traffic.

How often do we miss out on building that great relationship, or attending that party, or going to that concert because it is just too far away? Don't get me wrong. I realize there are times when distance and cost to travel can be a hindrance. I've been there. I also realize, though, that we often are able to do things that we consider a priority, even when it may be a bit more difficult, because of the perceived value.

My friend and I did lose touch after MOPS. It wasn't because she lived too far away. It was because our kids grew up and were involved in different things. Still, I was one of the people her husband called when she passed away a few years ago. She was my friend because I didn't let a few miles keep me from doing life with her while I could.

My challenge for today is take the extra effort to visit that friend. Buy those tickets for Disney on Ice and make a memory with your child. Invest in the lives of those around you, because you never know when you might not have that opportunity. Children grow. Friends truly do move a long way away. Ultimately, people pass away. We aren't guaranteed tomorrow. Please don't let a couple of stop lights keep you from the blessings that are only a few miles away.

sNOw JUST sNOw

This morning I was greeted with snow. What started with just a few flurries soon turned into what looked to be a blizzard in the making.  Thankfully, we only got a light dusting - which would be fun in late NOVEMBER but it's APRIL.

I am a beach girl to the core, but I do like the way the sun sparkles on new snow - in WINTER. I love watching the snow fall sitting next to the fireplace and the lighted tree at CHRISTMAS.  Watching the snow fall outside my window in APRIL - NO JUST NO.

I struggle with a Seasonal Affective Disorder.  I am not sure if it is a coincidence that the abbreviation is SAD, but it is convenient.  I struggle when there is no sun.  I lack motivation and I am ... sad.

Maybe that is why I am a beach girl at heart.  I know there are beaches where they have winter, but I have never been to one.  I associate beaches with sunshine, warmth and the soothing crash of the waves.  (Yes, I know they have hurricanes as well, but not in my fantasy beach world.) 

In fairness, we haven't had a lot of snow this winter.  It has mostly just been cloudy and rainy.  I got through it thinking that Spring would be coming.  I am starting to doubt it.  The forecast for our area is calling for possible snow again on Thursday.

I know that we are blessed when it comes to snow.  I live in Indiana.  Minnesotans scoff at what we call a lot of snow.  I am sure numerous Canadians and Alaskans do as well.  I am aware that Lynchburg, VA, was hit with a tornado this week, and even Hawaii, considered one of the most beautiful places in the world, is dealing with flooding.  I have no right to be sad over a little snow.

Ironically, I will just have to remind myself once again of the words of King Solomon - for everything there is a season.  Hopefully soon, though, I will be thinking about another quote, this time from Song of Solomon:

For behold, the winter is past; the rain is over and gone.  The flowers appear on the earth, the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land. Song of Solomon 2:11-12.

It's Time

In Ecclesiastes, King Solomon tells us that there is a time for everything, yet in today's culture, time seems to be a scarce commodity.  We each have a litany of things for which we wish we had more time, but those items tend to get pushed aside in the tyranny of the urgent.

This has been, and continues to be, a struggle for me as well.  In December of 2016, I resigned from a position I had held for the previous 8 years.  I loved my job, but due to some health reasons and some things going on in our lives, my husband and I felt that this would be the best decision for our family.

I was excited about the prospect of being home again.  My plan was to get my house thoroughly cleaned and organized, spend time with friends that I felt like I had neglected while working, and find some volunteer opportunities where I could use my gifts and passions to make a difference in my little corner of the world.  Great goals, right?

Now, fast forward one year plus.  Things look pretty much like they did in December of 2016.  The tyranny of the urgent, or in some cases the lack of, has left me struggling to find my balance.  I may be better rested, but I have not remotely met the goals I had set for myself when I resigned.

One of the goals that I hoped to attain was to begin writing again. I love to write. I have written devotionals and shared my thoughts here in the past, but for some reason, I stopped.  Honestly, I had go to my Facebook page to find the link to my blog. It was that bad, but like Solomon, I think there is a time and this is it.

So...I can't promise how often I will post, but I can promise that it will be often enough that I won't forget the web address!

Now, if I could just get my house under control...

More than a Hobby

I did something this weekend that I had not done in a long time.  It is something I used to do ALOT.  In fact, for several years, I did it at least once a week. But, in the busyness of life, it is something that has gotten pushed aside by the tyranny of the urgent.  It is something I miss.

I scrapbooked.

Now, before I lose the male readers of this column, I assure you that this article is not about paper choices, sticker options and page designs.  Sure, those things are all a part of the big picture (pun intended), but I think it is more.  And it is the "more" that I think I have missed more than anything.

To me, scrapbooking is about relationships.  I started scrapbooking when I was in MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers), and I went into it kicking and screaming.  I loved the look of the pages, but I wasn't about to put the time or the money into such a project.  It wasn't until as a leadership team, it was decided that we would hold a class for those who were interested in learning to scrapbook.  Being the good rule follower that I am, and wanting to show support for the leadership team, I attended the class.  My pages, although I was proud of them at the time, were horrible, but I was hooked.

We had craft nights about every month where several of us would get together and work on our albums, get fresh ideas and share in each others lives through pictures and conversation.  It was likened to the quilting bees of old, and that analogy resonated with me.  There were a lot of stories shared in those get-togethers and a lot of memories made.

As our children grew, those early get-togethers turned into play dates for the parents and eventually a get together one day a week while the kids were in school.  There were 3 of us in that initial weekly group, and we knew each other better than we knew ourselves at times.  Over time the composition and dynamics of the group changed, but the depth of the relationships remained.  There were some deep wounds and shared sorrows, but we all grew through the experiences we shared.

Unfortunately, as time went on, our schedules got busier.  The kids got involved in sports, and we all became working moms with different schedules to work around.  We couldn't squeeze in those weekly get-togethers, but we assured each other we would still get together monthly and catch up.  But we didn't.

Don't get me wrong, I still count each of the women that I built a relationship among my friends - some among my closest friends. But there was an intimacy in those deep relationships that is hard to nurture in infrequent get-togethers.

My mantra the last few weeks has been that I miss my friends.  And, it's true.  Whether it is my scrapbooking buddies, or friends who have moved away or even friends that I see everyday in passing, I miss the peace that comes with just being able to have a conversation - to share a laugh - to be a part of their lives for just a minute.

I guess, like scrapbooking, it comes down to priorities.  I think it may be time to re-examine mine.

It's Been Awhile...

I guess you could say that I have been on a bit of a blogging vacation. This is evidenced by the fact that I had over 45 blog posts in my "to read" folder tonight, and it has been almost half a year since I have updated my own. 

My break from writing was kind of a two-fold proposition. In one sense, I have been super busy, but in another sense, I didn't like the tone of several posts I started and abandoned. I just needed to get my head together before I shared my heart. 

The good news is I remembered I had a blog. The bad news is that I still don't know where my head is. If anything, it is probably more jumbled than before. 

During my absence, I travelled to India. I intentionally avoided sharing my thoughts pre-trip to avoid saying stupid things and offending people as I did pre-Serbia. I will sum it up by saying that it was a totally different experience. I was more confident throughout the process and excited to see what I would learn outside of my comfort zone. 

I won't say it was an easy trip. It started with a stress fracture that almost derailed the whole experience. The walking boot along with the incredible heat made for some exhausting days, but spending time with the girls from the orphanage we visited made it totally worth it. 

There was a group of us that went for 10 days while the rest of the group stayed for three weeks. I learned a lot about Indian culture, tried several Indian foods, and ditched the boot long enough dip my toes (and unfortunately my camera) in the Indian ocean. I drank coconut milk from a coconut opened with a machete by a roadside vendor and experienced my first rickshaw ride. I held my breath as our drivers negotiated the crazy traffic, and in all honesty tried not to panic when things turned ugly and they got involved in a street fight. (One got bit. One took a pretty good blow to the head, but we were all safe.) 

It felt like a different world. The number of men was overwhelming. That is one aspect of the culture I will never understand. There is so little value placed on women. They are more of a commodity. In fact, while we were there, one of the little girls we were visiting was taken from the safety of the orphanage because she had been sold by her mother into the sex trafficking industry. She was 8 years old. 

What am I to do with that? What am I to do with the poverty I saw? Honestly, I have avoided trying to process it. I slid back into my comfortable American life, and surrounded myself with the tyranny of the urgent. I tried to do what so many of us who are blessed beyond all rationale attempt to do - avoid the reality of it. But, it was very real. 

That little girl, and millions like her, are trafficked every day. They are bought and sold and taken advantage of with the consent (and at the profit) of their family. Little girls are abandoned and left to fend for themselves just because they are female. And, they are the lucky ones. Their parents allowed them to live, and opted not to profit by selling them into bonded labor. It's heartbreaking. 

So, as you can see, my head is still a mess. If anything, probably more so than when I was overwhelmed with a little work stress. I wish now that was the extent of my problems, but that will never be the case again. I will always have the pictures in my mind of the beggars on the street and that sweet little girl that I could do nothing to save. 

I am not sure what the future holds for my blogging. I miss writing, but there are so many things calling for my attention. And, most of my thoughts seem pretty insignificant at the moment. I just wanted to check in for the few of you that care enough to follow my wanderings. Thank you. It really does mean a lot that you share my journey - however sporadic it tends to be.

In Ministry

When asked to list some of the most high stress jobs today, most people would list firemen, police officers, EMTs, surgeons, nurses and those in the military.  I doubt many would list those in ministry.

I think most people have the vision, flawed as it may be, that those involved in the ministry are...like Jesus.  They have a peace that passes understanding, a smile on their face, and an unending supply of strength and encouragement for others.  To many, working in the ministry would be the equivalent of having a job at Disneyland.  It should be the happiest place on earth.

Now, before you think I am about to bash the ministry, I am not.  I am blessed to be part of an incredible church staff who ministers to an awesome body of believers.  I love using my gifts and talents to serve those on the staff and in our church body.  I love what I do, but I never realized how exhausting it could be to do something that you love.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised.  Jesus often retreated to solitary places after times of great ministry.  If the Son of God took time to rest, I guess I should expect that we would need that time as well, probably more so in that we are not the Son of God.  But it still surprises me every time I come to this place.

I think the rub comes in that ministry is so relational.  Most of the things on our to-do lists as ministry staff have little to do with things.  They represent people - people we are called to serve.  And the more we serve these people, the deeper our relationship with them becomes.  They have found a place in our heart.

Maybe once you have been involved in ministry for awhile, you learn to set boundaries emotionally, but I haven't got there yet.  I have said before that I am kind of an all-or-nothing kind of girl, and I put my heart into everything I do.  When things go well, that is a good thing.  It makes for joyous celebration and encouraging times in ministry.  But in the same moment, a discouraging word can cloud even the best of times because I have done my best and it wasn't good enough.  I am guessing I am not alone.

I look at the emotional ups and downs that I face as a ministry assistant, and I can't imagine the stress that our pastoral staff and directors face on a daily basis.  They are the ones who are at the bedsides and in the counseling rooms.  They are the ones walking in the trenches with those who are struggling and talking with those who need Christ as their savior.   They are the ones on the front lines.  They serve day in and day out all the while balancing their own families, and personal struggles and spiritual lives.

Being part of a ministry staff is a 24/7 calling - and it is stressful.  It is sometimes easy to lose sight of the goal, but every so often God opens the window of heaven for a brief moment, and we are reminded of why we do what we do.  We see God at work.  And that makes all the difference.