Tag: community (Page 6 of 8)

How You are Part of Her Story

Last night we arrived at our destination on the Zambezi river in Zambia in time to see this sunset while zebras grazed behind us.

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This afternoon as I write this I am sitting under an umbrella on the same deck, looking at a herd (a pod? a bunch? John and I can’t decide and we don’t have internet access to Google it) of Hippos in the water about a hundred yards out.  Every once in awhile (of course never when my camera is trained on them) one will lift his head high, open his mouth and roar.  How crazy is that??!!

Quite a contrast to our day yesterday when we bumped and lurched for hours in a Land Rover over narrow dusty paths through the bush in an area called Moyo.  Over tracks not made for vehicles, but worn through the grass instead by the toughened bare feet of our sponsored children, cared for by World Vision.  We had the privilege of visiting all three of our precious kids for the second time in two and a half years yesterday. Continue reading

You’ll Always be Beaten by a House and Other Lessons Learned from a Race

Daughter Katy and I crossed the finish line of the half-marathon Saturday, arm in arm.

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Words can’t express how grateful I am for so many of you who prayed and gave money for clean water, cheered, encouraged, gave advice regarding injuries, gave high fives, sent texts, and were incredibly patient with me through training.  For Katy who ran alongside me, and John who rode alongside me, I’m sure there will be special jewels in their crowns.

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Many people aren’t runners and get irritated with hearing about running.  I totally get it.  But I want this experience to honor God, and I think part of that is naming what He has taught me that may apply to your life too.  So here are three things I’m thinking about… Continue reading

Three Things You Can do When You’re in Transition

photo-53Twenty-seven years ago my husband John and I moved from our home and families in the Chicago area to serve at a church in Washington D.C.  It was a huge change for us.  John was required to attend a seminar on transitions and while he was there he had to take an assessment that assigned points to the the different changes in your life.

POINTS???!  We love points!  We’re a tad competitive :).

For example, we were moving away from family for the first time, expecting a new baby (I was 8 months pregnant when we moved), buying our first house, starting a new job in a new church culture.  Each of these got points assigned to them indicating the amount of pressure in our life.

John came home and said, “Honey, I have good news and bad news.  The good news is, we WON!   We had more points than anyone there!  The bad news is they said we should have been in counseling 50 points ago!” Continue reading

Baggy Overalls, Hot Mamas, and Your True Self

Think of your most comfy, go-to-on-bad-days piece of clothing.

You know what I mean…the super soft snuggly sweatshirt with paint stains from when you were fixing up your first house.  Or the holey pair of jeans from 1998 that make you think of friends.  And watching Friends.

You like to call it “classic”.

For me that piece of clothing is a tad more embarrassing than classic.  A little more obviously out of style.  It’s a pair of baggy, khaki capri overalls that are just sooooo comfortable.  I usually reserve them for wearing at the lake, or on days when I’m not going to see anyone (or at least anyone I know).

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But a few Wednesdays ago was a bit of a bad day.  I did a six mile run which started off with a bite in the butt by a dog who chased me (I know!  How embarrassing is that?!), and ended with me positive I was going to die and will never be able to finish this race or get water to thirsty kids in Zambia.  Total fail.

So I took a shower and put on my baggy Khaki overall capris.  The only other thing I had the rest of the day where I would see people I knew was a missions meeting at the home of my friends, Mike and Megan.  I debated changing, but I thought, “No, it’s safe.  Although they always look totally hip and cool and pulled together even in their exercise clothes, I think they’re ok with my come-as-I-am self. Not my fancy-pants, polished, achieving clean water with a half-marathon, trying-to-be-good-self. Continue reading

5 Things I’m Learning Around my Scarred Table

Tuesday we had a large group of people over for a BBQ in our backyard.  It was truly the perfect Minnesota summer evening.  Dry, 78 degrees, miraculously mosquito-free.  (for a minute I looked around thinking Jesus must be coming back).

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It was a delightful evening of good conversation and laughter, but it’s not like everything was perfect.  John burned most of the brats and 7 (yes 7!) people cancelled within an hour and a half of our start time.

It’s not like everything is always coordinated.  I’ve been known to use a hodgepodge of leftover holiday paper napkins.  Other times we’ve planned for outside but at the last minute rain has blown in or it’s been so hot and muggy we’ve had to frantically un-set and re-set for Plan B, everyone preferring to crowd in our small, but dryer, cooler house.  And I don’t always  usually handle this well.  Often I’m just a stressed out hot mess about change and flexibility.

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Saying the Last 10%

Monday I wrote about our culture of who’s in and who’s out.  About how often, subtly, we “disqualify” people for church.

Jesus says we’re all broken, but through Him we’re all “in”.  A messy community of sinners redeemed and being continually picked up, dusted off, and set on our wobbly feet to take a few steps forward before we tumble again.

Here’s the tough part about this.  In an effort to be inclusive, we’re often afraid to say the last 10%.  The hard truth that everyone’s included, but everyone is also in process and in need of forgiveness and redemption.

Somehow, in our culture, inclusion has become synonymous with approval.  Not only do you need to welcome me, it’s taboo for you to point out anything that would indicate that perhaps not everything I do is in line with God’s Word and will for me.

How is it that we can follow Jesus in this?  How can we love, welcome, and accept, but also be honest in saying “We’re on this journey together and none of us have arrived.  Let’s help each other out as we try to move towards holiness.”

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Who’s Dancing With You?

Our daughter got married 10 days ago.  And leading up to the wedding just about everything went wrong.  They had trouble getting a license.  The seamstress made her dress too short.  We printed the wrong dates on a welcome for out-of-towners.  The guy who was going to do her hair backed out at the last minute.

Just about everything went wrong, but the wedding was perfect.  

Because of the people gathered around us.  Amazing, loving friends and family.  It made me think of this post from last year… 

really admire my husband.

He’s brilliant and wise and athletic and better than me at everything.

Except maybe one thing.

When we were dating, we never danced.                                                                                 And when we got married we didn’t have dancing at our reception.                                    And when we went to our first wedding reception as a married couple he didn’t ask me to dance and I cried and was sure he didn’t really love me.

I wrote recently that some friends and I have wrangled our husbands into taking dance lessons, and I’ve finally discovered why this has not been part of our life together up til now.  I’m not gonna sugar coat it.  I’m no Ginger Rogers, but John is truly bad.   I don’t understand it.  How can someone who’s so coordinated in so many other areas be so…not…in this area?  Sometimes we just have to stop trying because we’re laughing so hard.

It’s one thing to have a humility thrust upon you.  You make a mistake and have to apologize.  Like BP.  Or the captain of the cruise ship in Italy.  Or Lindsay Lohan.  You’re given a job to do and things don’t go well.  You’re humbled.

But to choose to step into a situation where you know you’re weak, vulnerable, open to ridicule?  That takes love.

Doing this together with some of our closest friends has led me to another conclusion.

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What to do With Stress

I love being busy.  I thrive on more, but these days we’re a little over the top.

We leave today for a board meeting in London for 9 days (two weeks before our daughter gets married).  Yesterday, in addition to 731 wedding issues, most of which ended in disaster, there were 492 emails,

and we got updates on about 17 friends with hard health issues,

and then there were church staffing changes, upcoming moves, and housing issues for our kids,

and news that felt like betrayal and a punch in the gut for one of us,

Oh, and I shattered a pyrex bowl while trying to bake ahead for out of town wedding guests.

Yeah, sometimes it’s the little things that get you.

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I can hear you yelling at the computer about now. “Stress??!!!  That’s nothing!  You should see my life!”

The past few nights I’ve woken up at 3 a.m. for good and have sent emails with the subject line “things I woke up worrying about…” John’s favorite was:

What if our house is in the flight pattern the morning we’re outside doing the bridal brunch and prayer time and no one can hear anything over the roar of the planes?

The other night when I was awake the verse came to mind, “Don’t worry about anything.  Instead pray about everything.  Tell God all your needs and don’t forget to thank Him for His answers.”  But when I started talking to Him about what was worrying me it sounded pretty ridiculous.

What do you do with stress?  Here are a few things I’ve been learning:

  1. Write about it.   I was reading yesterday about Adoniram and Ann Judson who were missionaries to Burma in the early 1800’s.  Talk about stress!  Ann had two children die, went five years without seeing any fruit in their ministry and went 6 months with her husband gone, not knowing if he was dead or alive.  She used the spiritual practice of journaling to pour her heart out and try to keep things in perspective.  But the key was that she didn’t just write about her circumstances, but also what she believed about the character of God. 

So I tried this and it was a helpful reminder.  After writing whining to God about my stuff, I wrote:  I believe in all things You work for good to those who love you.(Romans 8:28).  I believe you will never leave or forsake me.(Hebrews 13:5). I believe many are the plans of the human heart, but it is your purpose that prevails (Proverbs19:21).

  • Exercise.  One of the great things about starting to train for the half-marathon is that every day although I’m sure I’m going to die, I don’t.  And when I finish I feel great.  It’s a terrific (though a tad sadistic) stress-reducer!
  • Say the hard words: “Could you please help?” and “No, I can’t do that.”  Some of our stress is self-imposed because we don’t have adequate boundaries, and some is because we are too proud to ask for help.  I am so grateful for the many gracious people in my community who have said “Sure I can do that!” or just provided a listening ear.
  • Just.  Keep. Breathing.  I wrote about this here.

What’s keeping you up at night?  What helps you when you’re stressed?

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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Saving a Place on Fearless (Good) Friday

This morning I sat down at Starbucks at my table next to the fireplace with Phillip.  He’s like Norm of Cheers, friendly and fun.  Except that he’s tall and he’s from England.  He’s here every morning at 5:00.  He knows everyone and chats with all.

Today he wanted to talk about God and church and how he didn’t think God could love him.  And I wanted to listen.

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Underneath the jovial facade, what I heard was fear.  A fear that all of us have if we’re honest.  Fear of not being good enough.  Fear of not having a place in community where he would be loved and accepted.

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