I Haven't Written Anything

Last week I attended St. Davids Christian Writers’ Conference.  It was an amazing week of learning and sharing.  I arrived home last Saturday with creative juices flowing and a laptop loaded with ideas.  I was looking forward to beginning work on several devotionals and a non-fiction project!

But… I haven’t written anything this week. 

This week I’ve been spending some extra time with my 7-week old grandson, Bryan.

I haven’t written anything, but…

I have felt the gentle warmth of Bryan’s breath on my neck.

I have experienced my heart melting whenever he flashes me his crooked smile.

I have noticed the phenomenon of how a baby feels heavier after he settles into a deep sleep.

I have been blessed by the flutter of his eyelashes on my cheek.

I have smelled his sweet, milky burps.

I have been tickled by his first attempts at laughing.

I have traced the intricate patterns on the palms his perfect little hands.

I have watched him dream while he is sleeping.

I have concluded that the best scent in the world is a baby’s hair after his bath.

I haven’t written anything this week, but Bryan has.

All week long this tiny author has been writing love on my heart.

Am I Mini Prejudice??

You might already know that I drive an adorable, little Mini Cooper… a red convertible with a black ragtop.  Bill also has a Mini.  His is grey-blue with a white hard top.  As Mini drivers, we have joined a really fun group of people.  We Mini Cooper drivers wave at each other whenever we pass on the road.  It’s really kind of neat.

This morning traffic was worse than usual.  As I approached a subdivision I noticed a Mini Cooper waiting to pull out onto the road.  Naturally, I slowed, signaled and allowed the royal blue Mini with the black hard top to slip in front of me.   The driver smiled into his rearview mirror and waved a grateful thank you.  I waved back and smiled.

Then I got to thinking…

Would I have let someone else pull out in front of me if they weren’t driving a Mini Cooper?

Honestly, I don’t think so.  And that’s what’s bothering me tonight. 

It bothers me because I consider myself very open to differences among people.  I teach at a very diverse school and I feel that I treat all my students equally – having firm, consistent expectations and encouraging them all to put forth their best effort.  I also enjoy living in the D.C. metropolitan area where I am privileged to work with and have friends who are different from me… their politics, their religion, their gender, or their ethnicity.  Getting to know those who aren’t just like me offers me the opportunity to grow.

So this brings me back to why I let the Mini Cooper pull out in front of me when I probably wouldn’t have done so if it were a different car.  I don’t have the answer yet.  I need to think on that.

It's Right to Care...

Most people who know me (including those who tolerate my progressive bent and love me anyway...) know I am passionate about equal rights for all people.  To that end I keep a Human Rights Campaign "equal sign" magnet on the back of my car.  It represents my conviction that equal rights for all people includes our LGBT sisters and brothers.

Because of the HRC magnet on my car, I have been called a faggot, a lesbian, a bitch, and queer… and I’ve been flicked off on more than one occasion.  I guess for some it’s beyond comprehension that a straight woman – who is a wife, mother, stepmother, and grandmother – could possibly care about equal rights for those who are not straight.

This past Sunday, I left a restaurant and found a note tucked under the windshield wiper of my car.  Before removing and reading the note, and assuming the worst, I walked around my car looking for signs of vandalism.  At the very least I expected to find that my HRC magnet had been taken. 

Nothing.  No dents.  No evidence of “keying”.  The magnet was in place.  I walked back to the front of the car and took a picture of the note with my cell phone.  I was still sure it was a hate note and I thought I should take a picture in case the police needed it for evidence.  After removing the note I saw that it had been written on the back of a RiteAid receipt.  It read:

Unknown car driver –

I’d just like to say, I have no idea who you are, but I love your bumper stickers.  The human rights campaign was the only reason I got to take my date to prom.  You’re wonderful. (heart)

P.S. Pretty brave for Carroll County ;-)

I couldn’t believe what I had just read, so I read it again… and then I cried.

I was expecting words of prejudice and hate… but these were beautiful, sincere words of thanks. 

Nearby a car slowed to a stop.  A young woman got out and walked toward me - smiling.  She asked, “Is that your car?”  I nodded and asked, “Is this your note?”  She nodded.  I was too choked up to talk – we just hugged.  She thanked me for caring and I thanked her for the affirmation that it’s right to care. 

I’m still smiling.

For I was a stranger...

Has Jesus joined us in worship lately?  Did we recognize him? 

Was he the well-dressed woman who knew all the hymns by heart… or was he the unkempt woman from the shelter who smelled strongly of cigarettes and stale beer? 

Was he the immaculately groomed man sitting in the front row… or was he the man in grease-stained work clothes who arrived a little late because he just got off work?

Has Jesus joined us in worship lately?  Did we recognize him?  Did we welcome him? 

Did we?

I really got to thinking after reading a Facebook post this afternoon written by my dear friend, Pastor Shandi Mawokomatanda. 
He humbly wrote: 
"For I was a stranger and you welcomed me." (Matthew 25:35)... Jesus walked into our sanctuary this morning, and unlike any other time before in my life I had to do more than just talk about God's love, I had to live it... "Lord, help my unbelief.  Amen."
I remember a time not too long ago when two men from the local homeless shelter finally accepted our invitation to join us in worship.  I overheard a long-time church member ask - in a loud stage whisper, "What are they doing here?"  Evidently it was OK for some of us to go to the homeless shelter to serve... but inviting "them" to worship with "us" at "our" church was crossing the line.  Their comments broke my heart... and I'm pretty sure I heard Jesus weep that day.  
When did Jesus join you in worship?  What's your story?

From Tears to Joy!

I wrote this last year... but I saw some Peeps today, so I thought I'd add it to my blog.  Happy Easter!

I cry easily and sometimes at the most unexpected, inconvenient times.  Yesterday, of all places, the tears welled up at RiteAid.  Seeing boxes of Peeps triggered a memory of my friend, Jim, who recently passed away.  

I was reminded of last Easter when Jim “Peeped” my car while it was parked in the church parking lot.  I left Easter morning worship to find about two-dozen marshmallow chicks parading across the hood of my car.  Some had picket signs Jim had carefully written and placed on toothpicks.  It really was hysterical and I have the pictures to prove it.  


So there I was at the drug store yesterday… standing in front of the Peeps awkwardly going from crying to smiling.  But isn’t that what Easter is all about?  We go from sadness at the foot of the cross to joyfulness at the empty tomb!

Many of us miss Jim’s sense of humor and his friendship, but because of Easter we have the promise that death is not the end!   That’s definitely something to smile about!

Why the hurry?

Palm Sunday… Easter.  How often do we rush from one to another?  This year our Spring Break falls during Holy Week.  This has given me time to ponder and reflect on the actions and teachings of Jesus that occurred between the Hosannas of Palm Sunday and the Hallelujahs of Easter.

Today, Good Friday, is a day that could easily slip by unless we take the time to experience Jesus’ trial, scourging, ridicule, crucifixion, and death as if we were right there with the crowds.  Too often we Protestants are quick to dismiss the crucifix in favor of the empty cross.  I understand that the empty cross is meant to remind us of Christ’s resurrection, but on this day I need – as I think we all do – to gaze into the eyes of the tortured Christ on the cross.  Only then will we really begin to understand the depth of God’s loving sacrifice of his only Son for the forgiveness of our sins. 

So let’s not hurry through today.  Take time to read Scripture, pray and reflect on the suffering and sacrifice of the One chose to die for you and for me.  Easter is coming, but the empty tomb will be empty of meaning unless we remember Who was laid there on Good Friday.

Wisdom comes from heaven...

I have taught for many years, so I value education.  I used to think knowledge and wisdom went hand in hand. Two women, whom I met while staying in a very poor, rural village in Nicaragua, challenged this assumption.  At first, all I knew about Narcisa and Maria was that they had only a third grade education, so I assumed them to be just simple campesinas – farm women.  Now that I know more about them I realize they are two of the wisest woman I have ever known.  Their wisdom comes not from a classroom, but from their love of Jesus Christ and their passionate desire to serve God by serving others.  Here are their stories.

The priest visits Narcisa’s village only several times each year to celebrate Mass yet the people wanted to gather for worship and to share Scripture together more regularly.  In spite of her lack of formal education, Narcisa felt God calling her to become trained as a “Delegate of the Word”.  She now serves her community by leading Bible studies and weekly Sunday worship. 

After the devastation of Hurricane Mitch in 1998, Maria knew she had to do something or many in her village would perish.  After much prayer, she left her family and walked alone for several days down the mountain through mudslides and flooded rivers to report her village’s status to the local government.  She then hiked back up the mountain laden with emergency supplies that sustained them all until aide workers arrived.

Scripture tells us wisdom “…comes from heaven [and] is first of all pure; then peace-loving, considerate, submissive, full of mercy and good fruit, impartial and sincere.” (James 13:17)  I may consider myself well educated, but I am humbled and challenged by the Christian wisdom of these two women – wisdom evidenced by their faith in God, their love of others and their selfless actions.