Thursday, August 8, 2013

Just a Note



A friend, an old friend, asked me the other day if I was writing.  He and I have not spoken in years- our conversations, when we had them, were deep and long, and I miss him and I miss our talks and mostly I miss what he brought out in me; the way he challenged me to think, the questions to ask, and also: how he viewed me.  I love how he viewed me.  But he asked if I was writing and it was a few weeks after I started this blog.

Yes, I hesitated.

Are you sharing?

Not yet, I said, it’s really new, and weird. 

Because you see, this is strange for me.  These thoughts are not what people would think I’d write about given the time, given the space and breath to write.  My college friends, I don’t think, would necessarily know me in these sentences.  I have found a way back into my faith that feels more real.  And I think about it more than I think about anything else

Wednesday, August 7, 2013

The Gathering


The Gathering
Sunday nights our church has started a new meeting- they call it the gathering and it happens once a month.  This is the place where I started dancing in church… (oh, I haven’t told you about my DANCING???  I haven’t yet explained to you how I’ve become a crazy person?  Shocking…can’t believe you’ve missed out on THAT…)

So last Sunday…

Well, let me say this first: I have loved the gathering.  I have loved the freedom that has blown through the place, blessing adults and children alike.  I have LOVED the testimonies from everyone in the audience- about what God has done in their lives, in the lives of others, what He’s challenging us on, the sharing of visions received, the prayer for each other.  The children running around, dancing to the worship, present as an important part of the body of Christ-  it’s all been wonderful.

But last Sunday my spirit was bothered.  I don’t know if it was because Justin was there and I cared so much about what he thought, or that another friend was there who I know to be critical, or if it was truly different than the other Sundays. 

But I left thinking: our church is so insular.  So narrowly focused on how our own silly and beautiful lives are being made right.  So focused on how our personal righteousness is shaping up, on rejoicing that someone is in church(!), that we have been given more money(!), etc… it felt so infantile.  Such small and silly measures of faith, such a team trying to psych each other up. Why is that bad?  I haven’t quite fleshed that out…

So I’d been praying a lot.  And I had written in my journal, after a few pages of wrestling with these feelings and thoughts: “God, I want to be my most creative, authentic, loving self. Make me a Being of Light, so that the Love that will meet us in Heaven is down on earth for everyone around me.”

And two mornings later, forgetting I had penned those words, I met Misty.
Sunday nights our church has started a new meeting- they call it the gathering and it happens once a month.  This is the place where I started dancing in church… (oh, I haven’t told you about my DANCING???  I haven’t yet explained to you how I’ve become a crazy person?  Shocking…can’t believe you’ve missed out on THAT…)

So last Sunday…

Well, let me say this first: I have loved the gathering.  I have loved the freedom that has blown through the place, blessing adults and children alike.  I have LOVED the testimonies from everyone in the audience- about what God has done in their lives, in the lives of others, what He’s challenging us on, the sharing of visions received, the prayer for each other.  The children running around, dancing to the worship, present as an important part of the body of Christ-  it’s all been wonderful.

But last Sunday my spirit was bothered.  I don’t know if it was because Justin was there and I cared so much about what he thought, or that another friend was there who I know to be critical, or if it was truly different than the other Sundays. 

But I left thinking: our church is so insular.  So narrowly focused on how our own silly and beautiful lives are being made right.  So focused on how our personal righteousness is shaping up, on rejoicing that someone is in church(!), that we have been given more money(!), etc… it felt so infantile.  Such small and silly measures of faith, such a team trying to psych each other up. Why is that bad?  I haven’t quite fleshed that out…

So I’d been praying a lot.  And I had written in my journal, after a few pages of wrestling with these feelings and thoughts: “God, I want to be my most creative, authentic, loving self. Make me a Being of Light, so that the Love that will meet us in Heaven is down on earth for everyone around me.”

And two mornings later, forgetting I had penned those words, I met Misty.

Tuesday, August 6, 2013

Misty



I was walking home from yoga class, hurrying to get home to my kids when I heard the yelling.

A man was riding a bike down the street with a woman on a bike behind him, screaming, cursing and crying.  She looked homeless, unkempt, and had on only a black skirt and a red, lacy bra.  She was sobbing, yelling that she didn’t want to ride, and seemed, geez- what would you say- unstable?  Drunk, upset, unpredictable.  A bit scary even.  I walked a little further, crossing the street and looking at her, feeling a little conflicted, but wanting to put some distance between myself and the, you know, crazy.

And then the guy rode off, and the woman collapsed on the sidewalk and sobbed and sobbed, saying, “I don’t want to be alive anymore, I just want to die.  I want to die.”

Well, that was enough to turn me around and stop denying that I had to get over my fear and go over to this woman.  I walked up, scared, and knelt on the floor next to her.  I asked if she was ok, I think.  I don’t remember how I started but I eventually asked if I could pray for her- this mess of a woman, sobbing with all her being, tears and snot and blood streaming from her face.  She said yes, and I wanted to touch her but I was still scared- not sure if she would attack me.  But she nodded and I put my hands on her and I prayed and – well… I became Jesus for her. 

I was filled with love for her.  I cried with her.  I took off my sweater and wrapped it tenderly around her shoulders.  I knew that I would have taken off my shirt if I hadn’t had my sweater.  I rubbed her back while she cried and talked her through the worst of it.  She was homeless, she had nowhere to go.  She had been punched in the face by her boyfriend, who had pushed her down the stairs, who had thrown away all of her clothes, who had stolen her last 20$…

 I sat with her through all that, and we talked.  I asked her if I could walk her to the Jesus Center, we were close, and she said she couldn’t go back there.  I asked if I could call Catalyst, and she said she couldn’t go there.  I asked where her mom was- she had been crying for her mom- and she told me her family was in Idaho.  She was waiting on a check to get to Idaho, she said, she had to get out of town.  She was still crying when I said, “If I buy you a ticket to Idaho, will you go?”  She calmed down a little, she looked at me, and she said, “yes.”

We walked over to get a pen and paper so that she could get my number.  She wanted to say goodbye to her babies first, she told me.  She was finally calm and steady as I wrote down my number and gave her a hug and told her to call me. Several times.  She assured me she would, and she rode off, and I walked home.

This story is getting long, and I have a tendency to use 5 words when 1 would do, so I will sum up.  She called me later, and I brought her a bag of clothes, a card that I had written, prompted by her yelling of “I want a new life” when she was crying, and got her a hotel room for a couple of nights while she waited for her check.  She wanted to buy the ticket herself.  We talked about God and her mom- who is in prison and tells her she is praying for her daily, “I’m fighting your battles, Misty.”  I told her she is so loved by God, that I could feel the esteem He feels for her when I was praying, and she fought away tears and told me she knew- that she could tell there were guardian angels around her.  She was blown away by all I gave her- she kept saying, “You don’t even KNOW me!” and tearing up when I would hand her more things.

But the thing is, it wasn’t me.  I told her that, but it wasn’t an attempt at false modesty, it was a simple acknowledgement of the Truth of it all.  It was an answer to something I had asked of God two nights before, something that I had forgotten I had even written in my journal: “God, I want to be my most creative, authentic, loving self. Make me a Being of Light, so that the Love that will meet us in Heaven is down on earth for everyone around me.”

God answers prayers.

Misty was such a gift to me.  I am awed and humbled by it.  In just allowing myself to be used- in just a simple act of obedience to God- getting over the fear and walking up to her- I was given such a profound gift.

And here’s the kicker: we had already used up our tithe and offerings money for the month.  Actually, we had already used up most of the money for the month!  But walking away from that I had not one single doubt that God would provide for us.  It didn’t even occur to me to think about the fact that we would be short- I literally could not even TRY to worry about it.

And two days later, of course, I happened to be online and decided to check our bank and we had received a surprise check for FIVE times the amount that I gave to Misty.  Out of the blue.  Unexpected.  (Except by me.)  Because heaven’s economy is like that.  And Jesus wasn’t messing around when he said life abundant.  (Although I really dislike using that about us getting more money… it make me really uncomfortable.  But you get the point.)

Thursday, August 1, 2013

Sometimes God Answers The Prayers You Didn't Realize You Were Praying

So our car died. 

Poof, up in a fiery death.  Bam, boom, smoke.....

HA!

Alright- so I've been amazed lately by how quickly God has been answering and responding to my prayers.  After that last post, I headed back home.  Up to Chico, where I do not have internet, and hence the silence.  And coming home one of the first discoveries I made was that our second car had exploded.  (Fine- yes- not really an explosion, but it's much more interesting than saying it wouldn't start, ok?)

HA! ha!

Yes, that second gufffaw was much feebler because it made me confront the fact that I really like having two cars now.  Mainly because I can go visit my family whenever I want and I don't have to rent a car.  But when you have something, it's really easy to take it for granted.  I took that car for granted, gursh darn it, and now I am reflecting on my reflections and realizing that I have to reflect some more!

That's a lot of reflection for someone with three little kids.  I can barely remember to brush my teeth anymore.  Like, I literally brush my teeth only once a day.  And I am Italian, so my concept of personal space isn't as, well, spacious as some.  Sorry friends.


Monday, July 1, 2013

More Reflections on Being Authentic

Here are some nascent thoughts and reflections...  It is my hope that my words and thoughts can stay grounded in humility and solely an ache for Truth.

 I've thought about that interaction with Mary a lot since I've been given a car and am not as often on the bike, not as often in the midst of street-life, more distant from everyone around me.  I chose not to have a car for so long not because it was bad but because of what the bike gave me.

 It kept me more grounded.  Slower.  In touch with more people and the real life around me.  Able to see changes and gradual shifts that I wouldn't have noticed otherwise.  It made me live more slowly- running errands that were close to each other instead of all around town.  It helped me honor the time and space that I feel called to give my children- a Slowness and lingering over life that is harder to give when I am not forced to.

It's like that with all the things that my culture tells me are blessings.  (Two cars, a bigger home, more money, etc.) Some of them are, but some of them- sometimes even the same one- keep you from even more blessings, more real and important and soul-enriching blessings.  Because I think the wisdom in Jesus living simply wasn't that he was trying to show that material wealth and possessions are evil, but that the lack of them can bring about such amazing interactions and blessings and meetings with God.

I have so many thoughts about this, and I cannot wait to write about them.  To flesh them out, to see where the Spirit breathes life into them.  I am excited.  I live in Hope.

Sunday, June 30, 2013

Reflections on Being Authentic

I pray for interactions like the one I describe below every day.  I pray to be a light- to walk in the Light and reflect the love that God has for each one of us.  I pray for that real and simple of a way to show His love every day.

So why am I telling a story that happened a year and a half ago?

Because the majority of my interactions with people are not like that.  They are selfish and apathetic, uncaring and surface.  I want so badly to be the person that I wrote about down there.  The person that has acts like that flow naturally our of her- that does nothing forced and because she should and because she has thought about "what Jesus would do" but acts purely out of Love.  Talks in Love.  Walks in Love.

And I think, will my children remember that?  Do they remember that interaction?  Or will they only remember the times that I complain about other drivers in the cars, or smile politely at strangers with a hope that we won't have to interact.  Hmmmmm.....

I pray, dear God, keep me walking in the Light.  Fill me. Let me live in your Love and Freedom and extend it to everyone around me!


Being Authentic

One cold day last December I went to the store with my kids.  It involved a lot of loading up- gloves and jackets for the kids and me, bags for the groceries in the back of the trailer- kids on bike.  It was cold.  (Laugh all you easterners.  It was cold FOR US.) I was 7 months pregnant and biking wasn't yet hard- the co-op's an easy 10 minute ride.
When we rode up we saw a trio of people sitting outside.  There are often street people there, it's on the fringes of downtown and gutter punks, home-free kids and travelers gather alongside the older more helpless homeless.  There are tables outside and the staff is pretty relaxed.

But anyways, two were ladies- cold and wind-swept.  We had an immediate connection.  I pulled up on a bike, they're huddled outside- all of us creatures of the cold- at mercy to the elements for more than the stroll from the car to the store.  But quite different of course, because I was out by choice, with a cozy home waiting.  And I am always remarked upon, looked at.  A woman- especially a very pregnant one- with a kid on the back of the bike pulling another one from the trailer is a spectacle.

I said something like: "cold, eh?  How you holding up?"  And we talked about that for awhile- the most comfortable one telling me the stories of how they snuck in to the Jesus Center to grab a cup of coffee- giggling about how they'd made it in even though they'd been kicked out of there.  She and I chatted for awhile.  And introduced ourselves.  And talked about the kids and the wind and her friend and my pregnancy.  Her name was Mary.

Can I get you a coffee?
Oh no, honey, we still have these ones.
Are you sleeping outside?  Is it warm enough?
We sleep ok sweetie.  I have a sleeping bag.  It zips up.

Selah was getting cold.   She whined to go inside, and Mary said, "Better get that little one inside."  So I grabbed her hand in order to say, "Nice to meet you."  But what came out was, "MARY!  Your hands are freezing!  Do you have any gloves?"

No, but I'll be ok.

Here, I said, pulling mine out of my pocket and giving them to her.  For goodness sakes put them on!

Oh no, honey, I can't take yours.  What will you do?  You have to ride home.

I live really close, I said.  Take them now and put them on!  (In my light-hearted don't-mess-with-me-I-know-what's-best-for-you! voice.  I get bossy.  I blame being a teacher.  Or being a Fusano.  Either one works.)

Thank you so much sweetie!!!!

And then we left.

Here's what I can't remember.  Did I say anything about why I acted that way?  I am sure I did- but I don't remember what.  I wish I would have held her cold hand a little longer and said: remember Mary, you are completely known and utterly loved by your Creator.  Who sent me here with these gloves for you.
And I know I didn't explain: No Mary, I can give you these gloves because I belong to a different kingdom.  One with a different set of rules and alternate economy.  I don't have to know how I am going to get a new pair of gloves, or if I will be ok riding home without them.  I know that I will be, because my God provides.  Everything.  Always.