It's Not About the Money

It's not about the money.                                       
Maybe it should be.      

But it's not about the money.      

It's about the investment in hopes and dreams.

It's not about the money.

It's about the broken hearts and broken relationships and trying to put them back together again.                                                                                                                                                              And again.

It's not about the money.

It's about the put back together broken hearts that now have shards of light shining through because every time they break there are slivers you can no longer find.

It's not about the money.  

Hopes and dreams cannot be bought. 

Broken hearts take time to mend--lots of time.                                                                                     And pain.

It's not about the money.

I wish it was about the money.

Choices, Consequences, and Unconditional Love

This week I am having what my sister calls, "a world's colliding" week. It's my last summer as Director for Youth and Young Adults in Kentucky, and there are several boys from Boys Home of Virginia on staff and here as campers. All Saints is a place of unconditional love and acceptance--no matter what. Read on...

It was Senior High week in the summer of 2018, and a young man made a poor decision. 

Let me give a little, probably oversharing information. This young man had been a camper for years.  And I'll be honest, he was/is one of my all time favorites. (I know, I know--we're not supposed to have favorites. But he's loud and funny and dances with me....appropriately of course). He was a leader around camp, and I fully expected him to be on staff one day. But he was 16, thought what he was doing was funny--it wasn't.

There were consequences--severe consequences that extended beyond camp. I'll just admit it. I was heartbroken. 

The young man owned his mistake and apologized, and learned that while forgiveness comes, consequences remain.

October 2018 we gathered again for our fall retreat. I was inside a building and got a text asking me to step outside. The young man was standing there. He looked at me and asked, "Am I welcome here? I don't have to stay if it makes people uncomfortable." Tears welled in both our eyes. I looked him straight in the eyes and said, "you are always welcome here. God loves you unconditionally and so do I."

That night during community meeting he asked to speak to the group. He asked for forgiveness. 

Last night, the young man, now a college student who volunteers in a neighborhood ministry organizing and coaching a soccer team for refugees, working with blessing boxes and all kinds of other ministries, brought a couple of campers to Senior High week. "MAMA D!" he shouted. As soon as his Covid test was negative, he jumped out of the car and threw his arms around me. 

Whoever you are, whatever you've done God loves you no exceptions. Find your place that serves as that constant reminder in your life. I've found mine....

I'd also like to give a shout out to The Episcopal Church and our commitment to Safeguarding God's Children. When this incident occurred, there was a process already in place. There is a reason we do what we do. Health and healing for all God's children.

Is There a Month for Us?

Please know I don't mean to be selfish or to try to co-opt the pain those struggling with mental health and/or addiction face, and I celebrate mental health awareness month in May and national recovery month in September, but I also just wonder, is there a month for us?

Is there a month for those of us who love those who struggle? A month for those of us whose lives are turned upside down repeatedly? A month for those of us who live on hope, then it crashes, then we struggle to hope again?

Is there a month for those of us whose cars are wrecked? A month for those of us whose homes become places of carnage instead of havens? A month for those of us who clean up those messes and welcome our loved ones back?

Is there a month for those of us who don't sleep while we wait for the phone to ring? A month for those of us who leave work and social events to answer that phone call?

Is there a month for those of us who sacrifice time, energy, and dare I say it, yes money one more time, and then one more time, and then one more time?

Is there a month for those of us who have to choose between loving our person and being the source of endless gossip? Is there a month for us who are so lonely and afraid? Is there a month for us who want to climb into our beds, cover our heads and hide but instead have to keep on working, keep on living?

Is there a month for those of us whose family and friend relationships are damaged or at the very least changed due to no fault of our own? Or maybe it is our fault...

Maybe it's not fair to ask, but I do wonder, is there a month for us?

The Raw Truth

People who love someone struggling with mental health or addiction rip their fingers raw holding onto even the slimmest grain of hope. I've heard (and said) more times than I can count, "As long as he/she is breathing there is hope." And I've sat with family and friends of those who have died and held them as they cried, "I'd take all the chaos again just to have him/her back." That my friends is the real hard raw truth of these diseases. But there is another side of the story....

I drove up to the graveside where the family was gathering. As I approached the mother, the first thing I noticed was a lightness in her step I hadn't seen the last time I saw her. She greeted me with a smile and a warm hug. Over the next 45 minutes I heard stories, there was laughter, and yes there were many many tears. There were statements such as, "He's at peace" and that is true, but there is still a hole in all our hearts that will never be completely filled again. 

I walked over to hug his mama one more time. She held onto me, put her lips close to my ear and said, "At least I don't have to wait for the phone call anymore. It already came. It's over. I can sleep."

God help me, but as I turned away and began walking towards my car, for a split second, I was jealous.

The Rocky Road of Repentance

I messed up this weekend BIG TIME....

And so, I sit here this morning feeling completely sick to my stomach with a lump in my throat that hasn't left for over 24 hours. I really just want to disappear, but that's not the way. Let me backtrack, and yes I'm going to be a little vague. I said something that was inappropriate and hurtful. I'm not going to repeat it. Only a few people know what it was, and to repeat it would only be more hurtful to others--just trust me, it was bad. And I got, rightfully so, called out. I apologized, and not because I wanted to get out of it, but because I was and am truly sorry. But here's the reality...apologies don't make things go away.

Hear me out.

I'm not suggesting we shouldn't apologize when we make mistakes. And I'm not suggesting we shouldn't forgive. But an apology is not like a magic eraser. Words and actions have consequences. Words and actions damage relationships. It doesn't mean it can't be repaired; it doesn't mean growth won't come. It does mean I can't rationalize my way out or justify my way out or clean my way out or even write my way out. Trust me, I've tried all those ways. No, I have to sit in my discomfort and yes, shame. I have to feel the feelings and let others feel theirs. 

True apologies require repentance...and damn the road to repentance is rocky, steep, and hard to travel. I'll keep walking, and I trust I'll get there with a new way of being in the world.

Oh, and letting tears fall is okay too...

Appropriate Clothes and Adult Children

This morning I had two things on my mind--scratch that three. First, it was 4:30 am and the dogs, for the first time in a week, weren't barking. Now, you might think that is a good thing and most of the time I would agree. But see, I had to be up at 4:30 to get ready to drive to C'ville for a cortisone injection, so now that we have finally defeated the dogs being out of routine, I was disturbing it AGAIN! (Oh, and this is my feeble attempt not to write about the other two.....)

Second, I was trying to decide if I was going to be brave and transparent and vlog about standing by and watching your children make decisions you either question, don't agree with, or downright fear. I was going to talk about how hard it is to keep your opinions to yourself (you can read myself if you'd like), and how sometimes I do well and sometimes, well remember we've always agreed to pay for their therapy....

And finally, I was grabbing a pair of jeans and t-shirt to throw on to head out the door after a little coffee. I wanted to grab them quickly to keep from having to turn on a light or flashlight and jingle (charm bracelets were on) around the bedroom waking up my soundly sleeping and overly tired husband, but I froze because I heard a voice in my head. No, not the kind of voice I need to report to my therapist--my mother's voice! (Well maybe...)

Anyway, I heard the voice "reminding" me that when traveling on an airplane or going to the doctor, you dress appropriately, and by "appropriately" it means jeans and a t-shirt are not included. As I let the dogs out (again, disrupting their schedule), I let my mother's voice and my desire to not awaken my husband have a full-on WWE wrestling match. Spoiler alert--my mother's voice won. Now if you are wondering why a 54-year-old woman lets her mother's voice in her head terrify her to the point of possibly sacrificing her husband's much-needed sleep, you have never sat on a fully made bed at her
house! (Can I get an "Amen" Lynn Barton?)

As I was looking for a dress and getting myself "doctor's office appropriate," it suddenly hit me. We rear our children the best we can. Chris and I spent a lot of time talking about what we wanted to make sure our children took with them into adulthood, and we spent time in prayer with the children, with each other, and individually. I thought about Proverbs 22:6, "Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it."

I get that doesn't mean our children will make decisions exactly how we want or think they should. They may even make some decisions, say and do some things we totally disagree with--and in the spirit of transparency, they have, but this morning I had a sense of peace. Peace that we did the best we could. We showered them with love, with faith, and yes, with the confidence to be independent and think for themselves. 

I'm now sitting here thinking two things. First, there is definitely the possibility some of the decisions adult children make that we don't think are good decisions may indeed be good decisions. I also hope they do sometimes remember some of the things we taught them. But the second is this--right after getting to the doctor's office I had to take off my very appropriate clothes and put on a hospital gown, so WHY does what I wear to get there really matter? 

Pretty sure next time I go to the doctor, I will still follow those directions--some things are harder than others....

Let's Talk About Judas

I've been thinking a lot about Judas this week, and no it's not because someone has Judased me. (Like how I just made up that word? I think it's going to make it into my daily--or at

least weekly verbiage...) I've spent many Holy Weeks thinking about Mary (With Mary I Can Identify), but this year it's Judas....

I keep thinking about how I've heard Judas described, "the betrayer," "the one who sent Jesus to the cross," or "the one who told the Romans where Jesus was." But here's the thing, I can't make that all make sense. I mean, it wasn't like Jesus was hiding. He wasn't playing hide and seek with the authorities. If anyone wanted to find Jesus, all they had to do was show up where the hurting, the vulnerable, the broken, the untouchables, the least of these were. He wasn't wearing disguises. For pete's sake, just a few days ago Jesus rode right into Jerusalem on a donkey, and a few days later he was in the temple right out there for all to see. 

I'll be honest, I really have no idea why the chief priests would give Judas 30 pieces of silver. Pretty sure I don't want them managing my money if that's how they spend theirs (and it's not like I'm frugal--just ask my husband!). I do, however, have some thoughts on why Judas took the money, and I don't believe it's because he didn't love Jesus. 

Jesus' earthly ministry is coming to an end. It's pretty clear to everyone he has ticked off enough people that this is not going to end well. (Well, we now know it actually does end very well, but we're not yet to Easter Sunday, so stay tuned.) Judas didn't know what we know. He didn't know about the resurrection. I think Judas was terrified. Everyone knew who Jesus was, so I think we can safely assume, they would also know who his 12 disciples and closest friends, were. And Jesus had already told them he wasn't going to be around much longer. Judas could have been thinking, "If Jesus isn't around anymore, they'll go after the next best thing, and that would be us 12!"

I think Judas was trying to align himself with who he believed would "win". Judas had been traveling with Jesus for three years. He had heard Jesus preaching. He had seen Jesus heal. Despite what he had witnessed, and I think did believe, fear won out. Judas lost trust in Jesus and in the Kingdom Jesus proclaimed and put his trust in the world as he knew it. 

How do we do that? In our Baptismal promises, we promise to respect the dignity of every human being, to seek and serve Christ in one another, but are there times we ignore those promises out of fear of what it will cost us? What it will cost us literally in dollars and cents or cost us in reputation, power or privilege?

This morning as I was running, and frankly feeling sad and a little lost, it's been a long time since I've been "free" during Holy Week, I realized I dance with Judas more than I'd like. I say I put all my trust in God, but then I find myself, well I like to say it's, "giving God suggestions or a little help." The thing is it's not always big and bold--you know like Judas--not always obvious to everyone, but deep in my heart I know. I started thinking of examples from the past--let's think about the past so I can pretend I don't still do it, but I do. 

 

Chris and I moved to Boys Home because we truly believe this is where God has called us to be. We said yes knowing it was unclear what it would mean for me and my vocation. Most days ("most" may be a slight exaggeration) I thrust God will show me where God wants me to be and what God wants me to do. I'm not great at the patience part. I'm also better at it than I was a few years ago. Just ask my therapist! But back to the not so great at its part. There are some days when I find myself trying to force something, trying to make pieces fall into place that definitely don't. You know like those shape puzzle cubes from childhood. (How many children really can get them all?!?!?!)

Living into the Kingdom of God that is both here and not yet is hard. Trusting God is in control when the world seems so out of control is hard. It's hard for us and we know the rest of the story. Today, I have a little more compassion for Judas.