OH THE HUMANITY!

Life is full of humbling moments, and I seem to be "enjoying" my share these days. You know, the ones where you call someone out for a mistake and then make the same mistake the next day? About that.

I am ever learning to keep my words sweet, lest I need to eat them later. The challenge lies in calling out the best in others without coming across as though I, myself, am perfect. Nothing could be further from the truth!

Proverbs 27:17 reads, "As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another." As much as I want to be the iron that sharpens others, sometimes I, too, must be sharpened. And that's humbling. I learn best from those sharpening experiences which leave me feel as though someone has imparted wisdom to me - not the ones where I leave feeling embarrassed or like I just screwed up one more thing.

And I'm learning. I'm learning that it's OK to be on both sides of the sharpening tool. I'm learning to be careful with hearts. I'm learning the power of words - something we start learning at a very young age, but don't fully understand until many years later. I'm learning the value of friends who call out the best in me and invest in me.

Another verse that comes to mind is 1 Corinthians 10:12, which says, "If you think you are strong, you should be careful not to fall." I picture a runner falling on the track, or a bodybuilder suddenly dropping the weights previously lifted so easily. Can you imagine how humiliated they might feel? How important it would be in such a moment to have members of your community who can say, "I've been there!" - and mean it!

Last week, I wrote here about my disappointment with the support my daughter received/didn't receive. And within days, I learned that I had failed to support a dear friend through a very hard chapter. Sure, I noticed her absence in our usual circles - but when I asked, I was told she was investing some time in relaxation and yard care. And I assumed she had chosen another circle on Sundays. There's that word "assume" again ...

The truth is, she lives less than a 5 minute drive from my home. The truth is, I should have knocked on her door and asked her directly where she'd been. The truth is, I need to be better at sending text messages instead of using my phone for social media. The truth is, I am now on the other side of the sharpening knife. And it stings a little.

So I continue learning. I'm learning the true definition of grace. I'm learning that grace must be given before it can be received. Last week, I rebuked the spirit of bitterness, knowing that I may well be the next person to let my community down. This week, I am so grateful that grace is like the water in a decorative fountain: it is continuously drawn up and poured out again.

To all of my "sharpening" friends: Thank you! Thank you for grace, and for seeing the shine underneath my rough exterior. You are treasures, buried deep in my heart.

Blessings to each of you today.

WHEN LIFE GIVES YOU LEMONS

I love the Scripture that talks about how good and pleasant it is for God's people to live in unity! I have stood at several altars with arms entwined around each other while the congregation sang:
            "You're my brother, you're my sister,
              So take me by the hand,
              Together we will work until He comes;
              There's no foe that can defeat us
              When we're walking side by side,
              As long as there is love, we will stand."

Ahhh, there's a catch, though. We must continue to stand together in love. And I think that's what I'm struggling with these days: feeling loved by, and together with, my people.

I guess I allowed myself to become a little disillusioned over the past few years. Notes/comments on social media have been quick to proclaim that our family is loved and missed and should come "home" for a visit.

Then I did. And precious few of those note writers observed my presence. And so began my feelings of disillusionment. Had I really invested 15 years of my life in building community with so many people who couldn't - or worse, wouldn't - spare 15 minutes?

And then I came back to my new home, where I have found my stride in life. I felt blessed to be covered in the love and prayers of new friends as I journeyed back East, and couldn't wait to return to open fields, open skies and open arms.

Except the arms I expected weren't open. It was coworkers who asked the details of my dad, my mom, my gay boyfriend and the ocean. The prayer whisperers were absent in the aftermath.

I chose to count myself doubly blessed: I had friends for praying and friends for staying. Those people who need only interact Monday through Friday during business hours have become woven into the fabric of my heart. They choose to care at all hours.

I spent the next three weeks fielding questions about my daughter. My first baby who is about to give birth to my first grandchild. "What does she need? Is she getting excited? Will there be a shower? I have stuff for her! Tell us when and how we can help or drop things off!"

The baby shower was advertised on flyers around town. It was posted liberally on social media accounts. And it was attended by exactly two people who were not family. One of those two makes no claims to Christianity. Again, though, coworkers came through with a stroller/carseat combo and numerous items of furniture and clothing.

My daughter lives directly across the street from my church. Many from the congregation nod, wave, or even chat with her each week. Still, the day after the unattended baby shower, several watched her excuse herself from the dinner-on-the-grounds lineup when she didn't have enough money, as she assumed it was the price of a donation. And my heart shattered.

When did we, as the family of God, forget how to be family? When did we stop linking arms with the sad and the poor and the loner and the weak? When did we begin to believe it was OK to offer lip service but be of no actual service?

I am challenged by these events: to be better, to do more, to love harder. To see a need and meet it. To bind up the brokenhearted. To stand in the gap for someone who has no one. To take every thought captive and stomp out the root of bitterness. We are better together.

If I have ever neglected you, please accept my heartfelt apologies. If I have disappointed or made you feel less than, I am so sorry! If it's not too late, I'd like to be better at being part of your community. If there are specific ways I can help, please don't hesitate to ask!

When life gives you lemons, I would like to be the shade for your lemonade stand. Because sometimes the best thing is just to show up and stand.

Together.

Heart Hugs,

V.

WORM WOUNDS

Each morning as we leave our home, I admire the beauty of our property. The huge, decades-old, leafy poplars that flank the east and south sides of our home are host to many songbirds who begin and end our days with joyful sounds.

On the western edge of our property, which is the street-facing side, are about 9 young saplings nobody planted. Really - nobody. When the first one sprung up out of the cinder block, we assumed it was an alder bush...so we weed-whacked it. Two years in a row. And then it began to grow for spite; the tree is now taller than I am, in the center of 8 mini-mysteries just like it.

As I behold our property, shrouded in shade, I am deeply grateful for divine favor. You see, we live in a prairie region which is currently enduring its second year of infestation with tent caterpillars. These worms are offensive to both the eyes and ears, and they devour trees. Well, not the trees exactly ... but all their leaves. Much of our neighborhood has been stripped bare by these pests.

Next door to us is an elementary school, where my kindergartener enjoys spending time on the playground equipment. Sitting there with him this weekend, I noticed the unusual condition of the schoolyard trees. 

My husband has taken great care to band our trees with carboard, duct tape and chainsaw oil. This has prevented the dreaded tent caterpillars from climbing and feasting on our trees; however, no such care has been given to the schoolyard poplars. Defenseless, they have become patchy with what I like to call "worm wounds."

"Worm wounds" are bald spots in a tree which testify to the evidence of pests being present. Sure, some branches are still leafy enough to house a home for a pair of hummingbirds or a family of robins. Other branches, though, are like a window to the heart of the tree - its trunk, which is clearly visible, exposed for temporary lack of the standard leafy veil.

That's the key. These worm wounds are, in fact, temporary. I witnessed these trees last July, stripped as naked as though it were mid-December. I also witnessed them blossom in spring, and I see their branches - even in their current state of duress - attempting to bud after each fresh rainfall.

I am humbled as I observe nature reflect my life. There are "worm wounds" in my story which seem to strip parts of me naked and raw with each season of newness and growth. They leave my core exposed: afraid that my past will thunder into my present, that the scorching rejection of yesteryear will char my very soul, and that I will never be complete in my purpose. What if I'm never more than blotched?

As clear as the call of the pigeon from the school rooftop, I hear it. The whisper to my soul from its Creator: "To every thing, there is a season." There is a time for feeling a little naked and on display; there is also a time the soul-sucking worms move on. The key is to keep bending with the breeze, soaking up the sun, and welcoming the rain.

The trees do not refuse the birds a nesting place simply because they are momentarily less bountiful. Rather, they allow the birds to build and turn those exposed areas into arenas for amplified, unfiltered music. Robins, hummingbirds, sparrows and finches - all project their voices to fill the world with song.

Oh, that my heart would do the same! Focus on the thriving branches of life! Become a shelter for others -  a strong, safe place from which to sing their songs. Unafraid of those who may injure hearts but cannot destroy the soul. Realizing that no season lasts forever, and those who sing with joy, are capable of eliminating any worms who attack. 

"I Have Nobody!"

Our youngest child has been described by his siblings as "spoiled", due largely in part to the age difference of 12 years between himself and the next youngest. I suppose the loss of his sister to adoption has played a tremendous role as well; we have learned the value of every moment together. So it is that I often find myself in my "baby" boy's room at night.

Bedtime is for reading, tickling, talking about his day and sometimes singing. It's for shadow puppets and knock-knock jokes and lots and lots of cuddles. It's for building pillow-and-blanket forts and for strip-dancing and for wrestling with the puppy. Bedtime is for anything except sleep ... until it's time for sleep. When my skin is soaked with sweat from the little person seemingly Velcro'd to me, I sneak out for one last cup of coffee and some reading before sneaking quietly to my own bed.

"Momma!" came the cry, in the middle of the night.

"What?!" I responded, haggard from a particularly challenging day.

Silence. Then muffled cries.

Haphazardly falling out of bed, I grabbed my favorite body pillow for the trip. I shuffled through the hallway to his bedroom, and was shocked to hear how distressed my boy actually was. "What do you need?" I asked him.

"Momma," he sobbed, "I have no one!"

Ouch. I could physically feel my heart breaking. "Yes, you do, buddy - you have me! I'm here."

And for the first time in all my life I understood how Scripture could compare God to a mother. How many times have we tearfully screamed "I have nobody!" even as He came to comfort us? There is never a time I will abandon my boy - though he is truly no longer a baby. How much more, then, does God long to shelter us in His heart, protected under His loving arms?

You are never alone. You are seen, known, and beloved of God. And if you need a "Jesus with skin on", you've got me. Let's sip a coffee together ... even if only virtually. Prayers that are whispered on Earth still echo in Heaven. Leave your name in the comments if you need me to send up a whisper for you today. <3