Labrador Puppies, Babies in Bathwater, and Dignity and Respect

Yesterday during my sermon I challenged the congregation to do something every day during the month of January. (A challenge adapted from a challenge David Lose gave in 2014). The challenge goes like this--each morning stand in front of a mirror with your eyes open (that's key--you have to actually look yourself in the eyes. I had to give that specific direction because I know there are people who won't--and I can name some of them) and say aloud, "I am a beloved child of God, worthy of dignity and respect, and God can use me to change the world." I warned the congregation it might not be easy.

This morning I stood in front of my mirror and repeated the words. (I know it's not January yet but

decided to get a jump start--call me an over eager Labrador puppy--my therapist does).

I said the words and felt uneasy but couldn't put my finger on it. I knew it had something to do with dignity and respect, something to do with being spoken to and treated with dignity and respect. I wasn't sad or mad--just pretty sure I don't always believe or act like I am worthy of dignity and respect even though it is one of my core beliefs--that every human being is worthy of dignity and respect no matter what.

As I was running a little later it hit me much harder than the wedding rings bouncing around my neck. I believe I am worthy of dignity and respect but I am willing to put that aside if

• it gets in the way of me helping someone
• it means letting someone down
• someone doesn't like something I say or something I do
• and God forbid if someone doesn't like me and I know it

Any of the above happens and poof I throw out my belief that I am worthy of dignity and respect like throwing a baby out with the bath water.

I've got my work cut out for me. I don't want to change who I am--I like helping others, being available to others. But oddly, I am excited for the work ahead. I suspect there will be times it's painful, times it's amusing, and times it's infuriating. 

But I'm ready--bring on 2019!

(and join me on this challenge--what does God reveal to you as you stand in front of the mirror and repeat these words?)

Advent, Thank You Notes, and Restraining Orders

Once again I have to admit Advent hasn't been the happiest time in my life....(It's waaaaay better than the year I thought all four children wouldn't be home, so I had to blow up Christmas.  (Read about that here... Blowing Up Christmas)

It all goes back to those gosh darn traditions and now having an adult child who has to actually work--so unfair!! SK doesn't get home until the 23rd with boyfriend in tow (and we're delighted but he should probably be briefed on all the traditions particularly where he's "allowed" to sit on Christmas morning.)

Anyway....

Our traditions start right after Thanksgiving and go all month, but not this year--the baby has also left us to go onto college--who said she could do that?!?!?! So it's been different this year and a little bit sad. And I've been a little melancholy.

Except at night...

Each night as I lie in bed I can see a house on the street behind us that is outlined in lights with green lights in the trees. It's beautiful, and it makes me smile. I leave the blinds open so every time I wake up during the night (and let's face it women my age wake up A LOT at night), I can see it. In the morning when I get up I run my hand along the window frame as a sort of good morning wave--I agree that is weird and I wasn't going to write it, but why stop censoring my thoughts now!

Yesterday, I did something that could potentially be considered a little stranger than the things I usually do (unless you count the time I went through my neighbor's recycling because I'd forgotten their names....)

I wrote a thank you note to the family in that house. I wrote it on my monogrammed stationary in a smallish envelope because I didn't want them to think it was a neighbor writing a mean note. Late yesterday evening Caroline and I drove over, and I slipped it in their storm door, again thinking if they got a blank envelope in their mailbox they might think it was junk mail...I put a whole lot of thought into this or rather into the creepiness of this. After I slipped it in, I ran back to the car. Caroline laughed and said, "Did you think they were going to chase you down?"

Later Chris and I were having dinner and I told him about it. He laughed and said, "I'm sure they will appreciate it even if they take a restraining order out on you." We laughed as did the hostess at our favorite place--side note, Chris also told her I had two restraining orders out on me in two different states and SHE BELIEVED HIM!!!! (The really frightening thing is she's one of my youth....what does that say about me? Please don't answer that.)

This morning when I passed the house on my run, the envelope was still in the door--guess I'm safe from an arrest for awhile--it made me think a little more about it.

Why is it that I had to think about the best way to make sure they'd read the note, and why was the joke about the restraining order funny but also almost believable? Has our world really become so jaded that people will think I'm completely off my rocker because I wrote a note to a family I don't know about their Christmas lights? The answer is possibly...and THAT is what REALLY makes me sad.

So I'm going to start a new tradition not only for this Advent season but for every season. I'm going to open my eyes to the many "lights" in the world that touch me, that remind me of humanity's goodness, that remind me that God is still actively participating in our world no matter how broken it seems, and I'm going to say (or write) thank you.