Author: lauracrosby (Page 22 of 45)

Why my Daughter is Crying

As I may have mentioned Most people within a five hundred mile radius know that our daughter Maggie is getting married.  34 days, 9 hours and 27 minutes from this moment.

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I’m not gonna kid you.  We’ve experienced kind of a perfect wedding storm of crazy that totally caught us off-guard.  And there have been quite a few tears (also unusual).

The other day, daughter Katy passed along this tumblr that a guy started – Why My Son is Crying* – recording pictures and the reason why he was crying with each shot.  Maybe some of you know about this and I’m just late to the party (as usual).

Some of my favorite reasons for his tears are:

  • Buzz Lightyear’s knee is bent.
  • It took me longer than 0 seconds to take off his shirt.
  • I touched his foot with my foot.
  • We wouldn’t let him drink whiskey.
  • We wouldn’t let him open the hotel door and run naked through Times Square.

If you have been a parent for more than the time it took me to write this sentence, you can relate.

2 months old, 2 years old, 25 years old.  Our kids cry.  And sometimes when they’re little (rarely) it’s hard not to laugh at the absurdity.  But mostly tears break our hearts and we just want to fix whatever is wrong.

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Dance. Just for Today

I’m tired of significant and meaningful and reflective.  I’m tired of seriousness and sin.  I’m weary of North Korea, and Congo and terror in Boston.  I want someone else to be responsible for today.  And I feel like a terrible human being admitting that.

Just for today I want to dance in the kitchen and hug my kids, and write a thank you note and eat fresh berries.

A friend of mine who works tirelessly for justice in the ugliest parts of the world was, at one time, on a sailboat in a lovely tropical port.  She said she wrestled with the incongruity, the unfairness of the situation.  Why should she get to enjoy such a lovely respite while so many are fighting for survival, enduring violence, and oppression?  How could she accept the gift that is her relatively privileged life?

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The Story God’s Given You on Fearless Friday

I had a great phone conversation recently with a high capacity leader on the other side of the country.  She is confident, bold, and faithful in using the gifts God has given her.  She inspired me, and challenged me. I walked away from our conversation encouraged…with renewed passion.

Usually I love to read how God is at work in the lives of others!  I love to ask people where they’re noticing the work of God.  Love to hear stories of big faith and audacious prayers.

Conversations like I had with my leader friend are an important part of living into community.  But if that’s all I’ve got, that’s not enough.  We can’t just live off of someone else’s story.  We each need a first-hand experience of God.  I love the way Mark Batterson says this.  “God’s dream for you is bigger than a second-hand faith.”

Sometimes, though, we’re tempted to settle for second-hand.  Easier to cheer from the sidelines than get in the race because…you know…

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What do you do When it’s April in Minnesota?

As I write this it is April 15th and I am sitting in Starbucks and it is snowing outside.

Again.

I’m convinced Hell isn’t hot and fiery.  It’s Minnesota in April when it is cold, dull steel gray and snowing. Still.

Eternally (it would seem).

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Two Boys and God

This is the story of two boys, half a world apart.  Two boys who have never met, and probably never will, but have become brothers in some small sense.

It’s a story about two boys, but it’s also a story about God.  God who saw Michael in rural Uganda and Eric in urban Minneapolis and thought maybe they could help each other out.

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I’ll never forget the day we met Michael in Rakai Uganda, 2009  He was 14 years old.  A little boy with a man inside.  We were there to celebrate the completion of World Vision’s transforming work in this forgotten place of AIDS and dirty water and parentless families.

Michael had traveled fifteen miles on dusty African roads and stood straight and tall, shoulders back, dressed in his best sky blue shirt and khaki pants.  He spoke to John and me in perfect English:

“I have come to you on behalf of myself and my schoolmates.  We need your continued help.  It is my dream to become a doctor, but without help I will not be able to attend the schools I need to.  I beseech you (yes, that’s what he said :)).  Please do not leave us.  I want to be the best doctor in Africa.”

Michael was articulate, brave, and clearly a leader.  A remarkable young man.  There was no way we could turn our backs on his need, so along with another couple we committed to pay his tuition through medical school.

Soon after that, back here in urban Minneapolis I started tutoring Eric, a young boy, 10 years old, who had moved here from Togo.  Struggling to learn everything in his fifth language.  Times tables, american culture, the harsh realities of cruel middle school boys.

Unlike Michael, Eric didn’t have dreams other than making it through the baffling days at school.

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Still, like Michael I saw a core strength in Eric.  A tiny spark of courage and hope that enabled him to keep showing up, like the robins who seem to have irrationally appeared back in Minnesota in spite of our April snow.

And this is when God showed up.  In a whisper.

I felt like He was saying, “Michael should mentor Eric.”

Michael, now 18, in Uganda with his dream, was meant to inspire Eric, now 14, struggling to find his way in Minneapolis.

And so I introduced them. Through letters.

And Michael, a young man who has never traveled more than 125 miles from his home, never seen the ocean or ridden an airplane, is challenging and inspiring Eric, a world away.

I helped Eric write Michael about his life here in America and here is some of what Michael wrote back:

I think you are surprised that I know your name and you wonder how I got it.  You should know that both I and you share some very important people in our lives.  One of those people is Aunt Laura.  I live in Uganda and she told me that you came from Togo.  So you and I are brothers because we were born in the same area (continent).  For me I have not travelled to any other country and I am happy for you because you are in America.

Aunt Laura told me that you are a very great boy and she is proud of you.  She is always praying for you so that you can get used to the American system of education and American sports.  We both trust you will soon do well, but you should be working hard and have a very positive attitude about what you are doing.  Pray also as you word hard and God will help you learn what is difficult.  Share with Aunt Laura whatever is hard for you.  I am sure she will help you.

When asked what he wants to be when he grows up, Eric had written “a policeman because they get to drive cars fast.”  He had also said he likes reading about the bad guys in the Bible from a book I gave him.  This is part of Mike’s response:

It is not bad to become a police officer, but you also need to continuously seek for career guidance from Auntie Laura and Uncle John so that you can know other professions in life. 

While at school, we receive a spiritual leader who leads us in fellowship and when I go back home, I go to church every Sunday just like you.  Which bad guys do you always read about from the Bible?  What things did they do?  

For me, I always read about good guys like Samuel, Moses, and David, a young man who was loved by God and made king.  From these I get inspiration and think you also need it.  Please try to read about these three good guys.  You will find it important.  Tell me what you learn.

None of this life stuff for teenage boys is easy.

Neither have fathers in their lives.  I don’t know what the future will hold.  But very time I see Eric to tutor him and every time I write Michael, I try to leave them with these words, “Never forget, you are an amazing young man and God can do great things through you.”

Awhile ago, after I had said that to Eric at the end of our tutoring time in a room removed from the other kids who are prone to tease and distract, he went downstairs where they were playing pool, and he approached the head of the tutoring program.  I prompted, “Eric, tell him.”

Shyly he said, “I am an amazing young man.”

I think that Michael is helping him believe that too.  And I pray it is making a difference.

Lord, thank you that on days that feel bland and monotonous and like oatmeal without the brown sugar, You – Your holy hands are working behind the scenes, redeeming and weaving together lives that You see are bright and beautiful and deserve hope.

When You Feel Like You’re Losing Yourself

“We are all so ruined, so loved, and in charge of so little.” Anne Lamott

Our daughter Maggie is getting married in 46 days.

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When she got engaged in November many people asked with concern in their voices “How are you doing?”

“Great!” I responded.  “Austin (her fiancé) is terrific and I’m excited for them!”

And then, last week, driving down highway 100 at 4:00 in the afternoon, thinking of the possibility that Maggie and Austin may move to California (you know, like, at the opposite end of the world, and a continent away from daughter Katy), I found myself sobbing and thinking “I’m NOT ok!  I’m losing my baby!  I’m losing my family!  I’m losing my identity! I hate change!”

I. Am. Out. Of. Control.

Yes, I was a tad over-dramatic, but give me my moment.

Everything feels like it’s slipping, slipping, slipping out of my hands, out of my control, like the gooey “gak” I used to make with the kids when they were little.

Change.  Loss.  New beginnings.

I’m not the only one.  I have young friends who are graduating, some going back to school, and others who are moving, some taking big new risks.  My sister-in-law after much prayer, just resigned from a job she’s loved for years.

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Inspiration in the Face of Trepidation on Fearless Friday

I’m amazed at how fear can constantly raise its head in different guises.  Like Whack-a-mole, you clonk a fear mole of rejection, and a little fear mole dressed as change pops up.  You whack the fear mole of the future, and up pops the fear of conflict or provision, or significance.

Sometimes trepidation needs a little inspiration to encourage us when the moles seem persistent.  So, here are a few resources on Fearless Friday:

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You Talkin’ to Me??

Years ago we were living in Washington D.C.  You know…the city where everyone is someone and power is capital.

I was young, and I had two children under the age of two.  I was sleep-deprived.  And I don’t really “do” politics.  I can’t name all the justices of the Supreme Court.  I was about a year behind with most current events (I was currently un-current).  And did I mention I was young?

John and I were invited to a party in Kenwood around someone’s pool at a big, fancy home with a park-like yard.  Great!  I love people and I love beautiful homes and I love parties (even sleep-deprived).  And if I’m outside, all the better.

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It was a delightful kid-free time, and I spent a long chunk of it chatting with a very nice distinguished-looking man by the pool.  I can’t remember what we talked about, but it certainly wasn’t world affairs.

Afterwards, as John and I were driving home and this was our conversation.

John: Laura do you KNOW who you were talking to back there?

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Doing Easter Better

This weekend I had the privilege of guest posting on the Willow Creek Association blog.  If you’re a ministry leader you may want to check it out here, and take a look at their other resources!

As I write this it’s Easter morning.  Gray, and ugly as most Easters are in Minneapolis. At least it’s not snowing like it has many years.

It’s a little hard to exuberantly declare “He is risen!” when the depressing surroundings aren’t in sync with the joy of the resurrection.  Like Minneapolis didn’t get the memo to put on its Easter finery with bright spring tulips and sunshine and green grass.  Instead we’re still in the death shroud of dirty snow.

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We kiddingly say “Jesus may rise, but in Minneapolis He’s probably like the groundhog – tempted to go back in the grave for six more weeks and come out when the snow has finally melted.”  I know. We probably shouldn’t joke about something as sacred as the resurrection.  But it’s been a very long winter, so give us a little grace please.

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