For the love, be a hummingbird

There is this story, one I have referenced years ago on my blog, it goes something like this: there is a mighty forest fire and all the animals flee the forest and cross the river and look over the river and watch their home burn up. Out of the corner of his eye, the mighty elephant sees the tiny hummingbird darting back and forth from the river to the fire, carrying a drip of water in his beak and dropping it on the fire. The elephant asked, "What do you think you are doing?" to which the hummingbird replies, "I am doing what I can."

I know a real life hummingbird. Her name is Renee. She has been teaching in an inner-city school for over thirty years, touching hundreds of lives with her love, faith, and generosity. She, along with the love of her life, Greg, have been youth leaders to hundred of kids over the years. She and Greg have been the very definition of "doing what they can." I would venture to say they have done even more than that. They have gone above and beyond. That is pretty much their thing.

I have gone to church with Greg and Renee for about the past nine years, and even though we are now looking for a new church, Greg and Renee, along with some other great couples are in a small group at our house on Wednesday night.

Last Wednesday, we all sat in my living room planning a surprise party for Greg's 60th birthday party. There was a lot of discussion over where we should have it. What kind of cake to make. German Chocolate. Greg wasn't there that night because he was not feeling well.

Thursday night I was sitting in my kids' choir concert and my phone vibrated. It was one of my friends from small group. I answered it.

"Crystal, Greg is gone."

It took my breath.

I let out a hiccup sob and then a keen. My mom thought I was laughing. I quickly schooled my face because I didn't want to tell my kids that way. Greg is their Pied Piper. Our friend. A magician. A comedian.

I finished the concert. I walked out of the auditorium and told Garth in the lobby. He was in disbelief. We quickly made a plan to get the kids home and have me go to Renee.

I am the kind of person who never wants to impose on someone's grief, but all I could think is that if it were me, Renee would be the person who I would want with me.

You see, Renee's prayers are the ace up my sleeve. I don't know how many times, especially in our adoption, where I would send her a prayer request and she would be on it. She is one of those people who doesn't just say she will pray for you, she prays on the spot for you. Talking to God like He is right there and is her best friend.

My dear Renee has been such a rock for so many people for so long. Right now she needs us.

I read an article that Glennon Doyle Melton wrote about the concept of sistering. It is a construction term used when a beam has to go a long distance in holding up a house. Too much distance and too much weight will surely make that beam bow, which can ruin the integrity of the entire house. The way that it is addressed is to take two other beams and attach them to either side of the board for support. That is what sistering is. This technique allows the main beam to do its job, but it doesn't have to do the job alone.

Renee needs us to sister her now. To support her.

Because Greg was not able to get life insurance due to his myriad of health problems, Renee has to come up with the entire amount for the funeral before Friday, December 15. The cost is $8000.

Now is the time to be that hummingbird. Even $10 would be such a blessing.

You may or may not know Renee, but please do what you can. Helping with this is following God's direction to the letter. James 1:27 tells us what pure and faultless religion is.

Please pray for Renee to have comfort. To have the peace that passes understanding in this painful time.

Here is a link to the GoFundMe page.

Here is a link to his Obituary.

*Update: I have had over 400 people read this post in the past 10 hours since it went live. If every one of those people would have donated $10, the remainder of this need would have been nearly met by now. 

Looking for the 'Why'

It seems to be so much of human nature to try and figure out where it all went sideways.

When relationships fail.

When people are mean.

When someone shoots up a crowd.

We want to know 'why?' What could we have spotted along the way that would have allowed us to prevent it. What clue did we overlook? Where did it all go wrong?

I saw on the news that they will be performing an analysis on the brain of the killer.

Is evil visible under a microscope?

Perhaps they will find there was some brain damage. Some sign of dementia. Who knows. But most probably they won't find a solitary thing. No reason. No answer. Just endless questions and broken hearts.

We live in a culture where answers are at our fingertips 24/7. There are no more unanswered arguments. I can't disagree with my husband on something without his iPhone flying out of his pocket to settle it once and for all.

I think that we have lost something through that.

We have lost the ability to live in the tension of not knowing.

Maybe I only speak for myself, but I don't think so.

I think that if we step back we can culturally identify, not just as those seeking answers when something awful happens, but also as those wreaking destruction and mayhem as well.

I see such nastiness everywhere. Meagan Kelly started a new morning show and  had a rough few days getting started. Now, I don't follow news, or Meagan Kelly, or anyone else for that matter, but for awhile I couldn't open up a browser without seeing her name and headlines about how much people hated her, etc.

There are real people with real feelings and real families that are being attacked in vicious and cowardly ways.

Fingers point at the POTUS for eviscerating people via social media, but it is not a problem isolated to him or started by him. There is a cowardly spirit at work in the hearts of so many. A cowardly spirit that sits behind a keyboard and constructs witty slander in order to get what we want. To eliminate our perceived enemies.

It is ridiculous and bullying behavior.

I have been on the receiving end of some of that recently, and I can say that it isn't fun. I can say that it stirs up all sorts of feelings and frustration and retaliation.

But I can also stand and say that it ends with me.

Maybe if more people stood up and stopped with the anger and the quest for the 'why' when sucky stuff happens we would live the more beautiful way. In fact, forget 'maybe,' we WOULD live a more beautiful way.

When You Can't Be Enough

The tree stands 9 feet tall and covered with 15 Christmases worth of ornaments. From the few fragile glass ornaments that have survived four dogs and four kids and countless guests, to the Hallmark ornaments that I have collected for each of my dear ones the day after Christmas. Standing in line because only a sucker will pay full price.

This new to us tree that I bought at a late season garage sale a few weeks ago for $10. Covered with white lights this year. Normally I love the multicolored, but this year my heart yearned for the simple twinkle of white fairy lights.

A mark in the pro column for not having a pre lit tree.

Garlands winding their way up the staircase and over the fireplace and festooning the entry door.

This time of year is dark. And cold. And I, being a Florida girl at heart, shrivel at the dark. And the bickering from no outside playing. My stomach in knots. Needing sunshine. Or Vitamin D. Lots of it.

Wanting so much say the right things but dark sarcasm sneaks out. Out of my dark and out of my yuck.

But there stands the tree. Lending its light to the dark. Compensating for the black outside my windows.

And that is the beauty of Christmas.

Christ coming into the mess of a stable. Into the mess of our lives.

What better thing could there be to celebrate?

On Earth As It Is In Heaven

Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy Name. Thy Kingdom come, Thy Will be done, on Earth, as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever and ever.

I love the Lord's Prayer. Every line is so rife with meaning. Every word, a holy word straight from the Savior's lips, teaching us how we should pray.

I went to a ladies' retreat a couple of weeks ago. During my time there, we recited this prayer on several occasions. 

The line that sticks out to me during this season of my life is "on earth as it is in heaven." Oh, the power and the promise! The longing it stirs in me!

Those words seem to imply that I can live, here on earth, as if I were in heaven.

What can that possibly mean?

First of all I want you to imagine that you are standing in the Presence of God. The throne room as was described in Revelations. The creatures surround the throne. The elders are present. The Lamb is seated there. You are in God's presence. 

Everything falls away. Your tongue is tied. What could you possibly say? It seems the only thing you can say is "Holy, Holy, Holy," joining in with the saints and angels. 

All those things that you worry about? The way your third grade teacher treated you; death; the scary diagnosis; the rejections; what you will make for dinner; all of the people who have hurt and stolen your shine: 

GONE. 

How can any of those things stand in the presence of God?!

Now, imagine how you feel as those things fall away....

FREEDOM! Peace! Lightness! Comfort!

I believe that if we can truly encounter God here on earth, those things will fall away! We can live that line!

It is a discipline. We have to search for Him, but we are promised that when we search for Him, we will find Him! Anyone can do it! There isn't a top secret ritual, it is a promise for every person who ever was born and who ever will be born: we can find Him. He has manifested Himself in creation and through His word.

And once we find Him? 

His kingdom WILL come and His will WILL be done, on earth as it is in heaven.

Tonight I hold that promise dear.

O Christmas Trauma, O Christmas Trauma

Tis' the season.

Ack.

Any of you parents out there with squirrelly kids are like:

For whatever reason, this year has been more tricky for us than in times past. We have gone through a lot of changes in the last few months and I know that hasn't helped, but, daggum it, I didn't expect those changes to screw things up as much as they have. Ha.

Daniel has gotten his second referral of the school year. Both were totally deserved.

This morning at the Christmas program at church, his eyes were darting all over the place. I could see them from clear in the back. When the program was over I had him sit on my lap so that I could apply pressure to his chest, which really did help him re-center and have a better day, but after over an hour of sitting there, my arms felt like limp noodles.

Garth and I were sitting in the living room a couple of nights ago after the kids were in bed and we really could chuckle about how far we have come.

Daniel has come SO VERY FAR, but there are just going to be times in his life that he is going to struggle.

We can call it PTSD, or whatever string of letters that you would like, but ultimately we have to live with it and no matter what is causing it, it stinks.

And as much as it stinks for us, it stinks for him more. He has verbalized that his brain is feeling bad right now and he hates it.

It's especially hard now, because it is the time of year where we are around more people and busy with more things (it is a self-feeding cycle). I totally hate making excuses for my ten year old's unpleasant behavior, and I am SO SORRY if he is rude to you. Please understand if I ask you not to give him a superhero toy, I am not trying to be mean or steal his fun. If I ask you not to give him lots of attention when he is acting silly don't think I don't love him or delight in him, because I do. With ever fiber, I do love and delight in him and I want him to have fun, but I KNOW my son enough to know that is not what he needs in the moment.

These days will pass and he will settle back down. It's always a cycle. In the meantime, give us a spot of grace.

Hospitality: Revisited

I love "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" by Dr. Suess.

I am not sure why I exactly love it, but every year it resonates with me. Some years it is because I am a total Grinch and I love the illustrations of his face as his wicked thoughts on how to spoil Christmas go through his mind. I am sure that the image of the long-suffering Max with a stick tied to his head has something to do with it, too, but I think for myself and for most connoisseurs, it comes down to this quote:

“And the Grinch, with his Grinch-feet ice cold in the snow, stood puzzling and puzzling, how could it be so? It came without ribbons. It came without tags. It came without packages, boxes or bags. And he puzzled and puzzled 'till his puzzler was sore. Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before. What if Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from a store. What if Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more.”

So, I bet you are wondering what this has to do with hospitality...

Here it is!

Many times we have this idea that hospitality has to come with packages, boxes or bags! The daunting task of "entertaining" our guests keeps us from inviting them in the first place.

Here is the truth: there are people who want a comfy couch to sit on or snooze on after lunch. There are people who simply want to watch a movie of their choosing, or have access to a stove to make a meal.

Entertainment is something that anyone can buy, but home is a gift.

Moral of the story: don't geek yourself out about hosting people, worrying about how to entertain them. Invite them into your home and into your life. Show them where the food is, where the bathrooms are and how to work the showers, and leave the rest to happy chance.

Don't bog yourself down with "process" and "ministry." And for goodness sake, don't be a bean counter.

Be you.
Give yourself.
Be present.
Laugh.
Mess up.

These are the things that form the lasting memories and the precious connections.

Blood Whistles and Poop of Love: Life in an ESL home

(Grandma and Grandpa, Mom and Dad, if you are reading this, don't read the title and think you raised me wrong)

If you have been reading along for awhile, you know that our home is a home that hosts many different languages.

In the day to day stuff, it is no big deal. I mean, we can't play a good game of Balderdash or Scattergories, but life is good, and in my opinion, we communicate pretty well.

But my opinion is not always reality.

Far too often feelings are hurt and decisions are made based on a failure to communicate.

Let's face it, even in the most homogeneous of environments, people can struggle with effective communication.

We all speak a different language based on our history. Garth comes from a Deaf home. English was not his first language, ASL was. His family also had some pretty unique dynamics that have colored the way that he has learned to deal with communication. I bring my upbringing where 'flibilee' is a word and crick is what's over behind the neighbor's house.

People that stay with us not only bring their language; they bring their culture, their faith, their hurts and disappointments, and their prejudices. For better or worse.

Communication can be bumpy and laughable at best and devastating at worst.

One of the laughable moments was last night when Grace was trying to explain to Daniel what the blue things were in his arms.

"Those are veins."

"Dey are not veins. I have blood whistles!"

It took me a second. Haha.

But it makes perfect sense! He is taking a word that he hears and fitting it into the context he understands.

When he first came home he LOVED the song "Proof of Your Love" by Casting Crowns. He would bellow along, making a joyful noise. (He is totally tone deaf, but what he lacks in gifting, he makes up for in volume).

After a few weeks, I started really listening. It wasn't his accent. No. He was singing "Poop of Your Love" instead of "PROOF."

I asked him if he knew what "proof" meant. Of course he didn't. But he knew what poop meant.

Ay yi yi.