Who Do You Think You Are?

Yesterday was a packed day. I really had no idea how I was going to do all the things I had

committed to, and then true to this 2020-2021 year of hell, a few more unplanned things got thrown in.

So, I may be being a little dramatic, but it really was a full day. What I had not calculated was having to go to the office because the documents I thought were saved on my computer were not. As I was racing to get the documents and get back home before a scheduled meeting, there was a knock on the parish door. "M'am, we're here about an hour and a half early to check the kitchen hood. We're supposed to meet M but wanted to come now."

I looked down at my watch. I looked at the man. I thought about the computer I needed for my upcoming meeting and pictured it on my desk at home. "I'm sorry," I said, "I can't help you now. You'll need to come back at the scheduled time." "No problem," he replied, "We'll go get some lunch and come back."

No problem for him--BIG problem for me.

As I drove home I kept hearing a very mean voice in my head taunting me with, "Who do you think you are? Some kind of priest you are. Are you too good to wait with people caring for the buildings?" I really dislike that voice.

Later as I was taking a walk, I thought about two things. (Actually, I think about them quite frequently....)

Years ago (21 to be exact) when we owned a Sylvan Learning Center, I came in one day, saw Chris in his office, and found our manager cleaning the bathroom. "What are you doing?" I asked her, "That's not your job. You don't have to clean the bathroom." "Oh it's okay," Kelly replied, "There was a little bit of a mess from yesterday. I don't mind doing it particularly because I know Chris would do it too. I'll do anything knowing Chris would too." An example of a true servant leader. I have never forgotten that story, how proud of Chris I was, and that I swore I would strive to be that kind of person.

The second story I thought about was in 7th grade when I lost almost all my friends. One took me aside and explained why I was no longer in the friend group, "You're pretty stuck-up and think you're smarter and better than everyone else." I knew I didn't really think that so I asked what she meant. "The other day when y'all were grading spelling tests, you told T, 'It's okay if I miss one because I know I got the bonus right." That day I learned, make sure you never do anything that makes you stand out or even give the impression you think you're too good for anyone or anything. 

Oh, and there's a third thing. I'm really trying hard to not over-function, to know what's mine to do, and to prioritize. 

I kept walking trying to get the discomfort to stop. I wanted to help and be available. I didn't think I was too important, but what I needed to do, to be available for at that time, was something only I could do. I do believe I made the right decision, and I'm even feeling okay about it (mostly), but I am reminded about how our stories or the way we remember our stories, can impact our lives for years. 

This morning I'm again remembering the story of Kelly and Chris, and for the first time I remember something else to add to the story. Chris was there in his office doing what he needed to do, and it was probably something no one else could have done. 

And I'm also remembering those little girls including me from all those years ago. We were trying to grow up the best we could, and it wasn't easy and sometimes it was painful. I'm sure I did behave in ways that led those friends to believe those things about me even though it was not at all how I saw myself. But, we were all young and trying to figure life out, trying to figure out who we were, and trying to grow into the people God created us to be and that is both messy and a lifelong journey. 

What I wish I had known then, been confident in then was that I knew my heart and God knew my heart. Well, maybe I still need to remember that....

(and some better stories...)

The Healing Power of God

Before I write another word let me be clear--this is not about competition, you know the "Who

has it worse?" This is not about shaming anyone or placing blame. And this is not about being needy or wanting sympathy (which may sound like an ironic statement after you read it, but it's the truth). This is about a family disease.

I don't sleep well right now, or I guess I should say I don't sleep well in this house. That does not help with not being grumpy. So even on a good day, I am tired. But today has not been the world's greats day. Don't get me wrong. There have been moments of joy and laughter (always make sure to find some joy y'all). But there have also been many frustrations and the tears have been just under the surface--tears of frustration, sadness, and anger. 

To be fair, some of today has just been your run of the mill Covid stinks and makes life harder stuff--technology not working, deadlines looming, online meetings and liturgies to figure out, bills to pay, blah blah blah 

But today added on top of those things were missed phone calls (PSA young adult children around the world--if you call your mama and she doesn't answer and you're not going to be available when she calls you back, LEAVE A MESSAGE! She will, I can promise you, assume the absolute worse like you're dead in a ditch. And don't try to be rational and say then you wouldn't be able to call...), disappointing conversations or no conversations, hurt feelings, lots and lots of bad memories, and just overall sadness and frustration peppered with some good old fashion self-pity. (Let me reiterate and not because though doth protest too much but rather because if I was not okay, I would not be writing this.)

I sat at my desk working, staring off into space, working some more. A voice popped into my head, "You have to take care of yourself. Go for a walk. Find something to distract you and get your head back in the game." "First of all, it is 24 degrees, and secondly," I told the stupid voice trying to connect with me by using sports metaphors, "I don't have time." ""You don't have time not to," reality-based annoying voice retorted. 

I started looking for enough clothes to wear to keep me warm all the while muttering to myself, "I get when someone needs to get help 30-day programs are good. I understand, well maybe not entirely, how hard the struggle is. I get they need to step back and away from the world. But why can't there be 30-day programs for the family? Why do we have to keep doing life as if everything's normal? Why can't we get a break?" And this part I'm embarrassed to admit but have pledged to be transparent, so here goes, as I was kicking stuff around trying to find a large jacket that would actually zip up I thought, "and on top of everything else in our lives, we also have to deal with cleaning up messes left behind." (read above--this is not about blaming or shaming--this is about the reality of the disease). I was working myself up into quite the frenzy to the point I might not need all the layers....

As I walked down the driveway I felt something in my shoe. "Damnit," I said out loud, "Now I've got to take off my gloves and empty sand out of my shoe just reminding me of the beach." I stooped down and dumped the shoe. Nothing came out. I shook it harder, still nothing. I put my hand inside and found a silver heart charm. It took my breath away, not because it was jaw-dropping beautiful but because as I held that heart in my hand I felt the complete and total unconditional love and presence of God as I heard, "lo, I am with you always." (Matthew 28:20) That, my friends, is the healing power of God.

P.S. The charm is not mine, and I have no idea how it got in my shoe but unless someone claims it, it will be going on my bracelet.