Let's call it what it is...

All the furor and uproar over Lindsay Clancy, that poor excuse for a mother, has me spinning--I am astounded,  no, I am disgusted at the outpouring of sympathy for that woman, a woman who cold-heartedly sent her husband away to pick up some dinner, Miralax, and then executed her own children.

Mental health crisis my ass. 

Let's call it what it is: SIN

When Cain killed Abel, Cain was not having a mental health crisis. He murdered his brother. Out of selfishness. He SINNED.

When Abram did not trust God, and laid with Sara's servant, he wasn't having a hormonal overload. He SINNED.

When Herod killed all the babies under 2 years of age, he SINNED. 

When King David took another man's wife, got her pregnant, and then sent that man to the front with no backup, causing him to be killed, he did not suffer from a command lapse of judgment. He SINNED.  

When Peter denied he knew Christ, not once, not twice, but THREE times, he was not suffering from memory loss. He SINNED. 

When Aaron capitulated to the crowd of Israelites, fashioned an idol for them to worship instead of the God who saved them from the Pharaoh, he was not overwhelmed with fear. He SINNED. 

I am not going to qualify or ameliorate Ms. Clancy by labeling her with postpartum depression. I am not going to blame the pharmacist, the doctors, or the counslors who tried to help her and failed. I blame that mother, a woman given three precious gifts, for killing them with her own hands. She SINNED. 

When I speak harshly to my spouse, or my daughter, or to anyone, it is not because I am in bad mood, had a bad day, or am having a hard time with my life. I SIN. 

When we put our desires above God's law, that is SIN. 

In this post Christian world, we have watered down God, faith, good, and evil so much so that our morals have devolved into a homogenous, gelatinous goo. Good is bad, bad is good. Folks quote Holy Scripture, go to church, talk about God, but no one seems to listen to Him anymore. We spend more time on social media than we spend in church, in prayer, or in His word (myself included).  The society has morphed into an organism of individuals where the individual is more important than the group. Mantras abound; "reproductive rights," "love is love," "it is what it is," "anything goes," "you do you, I'll do me," and now "I am Lindsay" take over the social media channels, the news,  and our time. People struggle to respond, to make sense of it, and we form yet another club to join. We spend our days screaming at each other from our keyboards, cursing at people we have never met, thinking we can convince someone to side with us on whatever the cause is: politics, religion, climate change, culture, or whether or not our town needs a new fast food restaurant. 

I am sick to death of this nation's obsession with self, and its abandonment of God, His laws, and His Son. 

We do not need more mental health awareness. 

We need more God awareness.

Christmas Spirit?

Trying to find my Christmas spirit right now...it is a bit slow in loading...I hate what our country has become, how we have allowed multimillion dollar media corporations, including so called social media, to manipulate our emotions and thoughts, creating a tribal mentality pitting human beings against each other. Never in my life have I witnessed such anger, vitriol, and hatred, absolute hatred, against other human beings, as I have witnessed over the past 12 years. Elections have become so controversial and polarized as to create huge rifts between not only Congress, but coworkers, friends, and even family take sides in some weird tribal mentality. People judge each other based on their vote—there is no longer a middle ground.

I am sick and tired of having to watch what I say, or what I agree with, for if I do not jump in the fray that is being vilified on CNN or FOX, then I must be blind or stupid or void of all common sense and compassion. When did who I vote for become the sole defining quality of a person? Why is there a ‘left’ or a ‘right?’ When did our social graces, common courtesies, etiquette, and the golden rule disappear from the landscape? When did four letter words become so commonplace in a supposedly civilized, cultured society, so much so that anyone can tell someone they have never met, except behind a keyboard, to go F*** off? How did the United States of America become so banal and vulgar? 

I am seventy years old, on the downhill slope of my time on earth, and I love this planet, God’s creation, but especially I love people, all kinds, everywhere. I do not think God only blesses America, or that we are somehow above hurting each other, but dammit haven’t we learned anything in the past 250 years? Do we really hate each other so much that we are willing to kill someone for their beliefs? We should be better than this, I tell myself, but in reality, we are not. Labels like Nazi, idiot, socialist, homophobe, misogynist, a racist, bigoted, entitled, snowflake, fraudulent, Fascist, narcissist, and others equally demoralizing flow freely from people’s keyboards and lips these days. There is no intelligent banter anymore, or lively debate where folks on opposite sides can still laugh, hug, and be friends afterwards. Americans are now pigeon-holed into some pre-determined mold as soon as they open their mouths. 

I have been fighting for three years to maintain a 25-year long friendship with someone who I thought was open minded, someone who could look beyond my age, my race, my faith, or my political leaning and still see me as someone worth loving. That ended tonight. And I am broken hearted over the loss, not just the loss of this friend, but my inability to reason with her.  

The devil is laughing his ass off right now…because he thinks he has won by pitting people against each other so they lose focus on what is important—love each other and love God. And just because I know the devil has already lost does not make all of this any easier. 

Please be kind to each other, to anyone actually, not just during this Christmas season, but every season. Merry Christmas to each and every one of you.

You're killing me, Smalls....

Yes...the small mindedness. The ridculuousness. The tribal mindset and groupthink. The divisiveness. Destroyed friendships. Family separation. Name calling. WHY????

Because someone does not like the way someone else voted. Today I saw the most vicious, vitriolic, hateful, vulgar, disgusting, name calling, post shared by a person I hold extremely dear, a freind I have known for 30 years, someone I would do anything for. 

Do I take that post, and others like it, personally? You bet I do. Because it is meant as personal. Others have called "all those Trump voters" racists, misogynists, stupid, and ignorant. Those "Tru

I do not care how you vote. It is none of my business.

I do not care who you have sex with, or if you have it all. It is none of my business.

I do not care how much money you make. It is none of my business.

What do I care about?

I care about my faith. I care about Jesus. 

I care about my family.

I care about civility and kindness, and not provoking anyone with language or actions. I care about the old adage of treating each other as you would be treated, and if you cannot say anything nice, say nothing at all. 

I would love to say we are better than this, that "Americans" can be kind and gentle. That people are not driving around with political hit lists, or destroying police cars and blocking highways. 

Disclaimer: I do not expect a lot of likes on this post. There are not any cute cat videos or granddaughter photos. No flag waving or marching bands.

Independence Day. A day Americans celebrate their freedom from British rule with parades, reading the Declaration of Independence, grilling a lot of meat, and of course, fireworks. A time for fun and family, good memories.

But today I went to a friend's page to see how she is doing ,and saw the most vitriolic, vulgar, hateful post, aimed at dehumanizing others, through the use of four letter words and angry rhetoric, so hateful it actually brought tears to my eyes. I cried. I am saddened by the hate and divisiveness that has become the norm in American society. People are no longer kind. The old adages of "do unto others as you would have them do unto you," and "if you can't say anything nice, do not say anything at all" have all but disappeared.

People are not kind anymore. How you vote or voted defines you as a person, and everyone says whatever the heck they want on antisocial media, and oftentimes in person. Friendships are lost, family members are alienated from each other, and groupthink and autonomy have replaced civility, kindness, and community. Adults--grown adults, mind you, not children--routinely call each other horrible names, all because of who they voted for. It is shameful, juvenile, and uncalled for.

I am so sick of accidentally seeing such horrible things being said by people I thought I knew and respected, even veterans I served with, and especially those who proclaim to be Christians. They put such filth and hate out for anyone and everyone to see, but mostly to spread divisiveness in this tribal mentality world we now inhabit. So sick and tired of it. It makes me sad, angry even, to read or hear such hatred.

Freedom is not a license to shout fire in a crowded theater. It is not celebrated by inciting anger or calling people names just because they do not agree with something you say or do. And no, I am not singling out any one political bent, because as a nation, as "free" people blessed with the ability to elect their own government every four years, to have their own representation, we set a horrible example not only for our children but for the rest of the world.

In 2017, Mark Zuckerberg once said that FaceBook would become the "new church" by giving us all "a sense of community." Hah.
True freedom is not won through reading the Declaration of Independence, wars, riots, protests, government, and definitely not through posts on FaceBook or any other media.

True freedom, freedom from the consequences of sin as a result of our selfishness, is not won, it is a gift. From the Creator through His son, Jesus Christ. True freedom is not "whatever feels good, do it," or "anything goes." True freedom is surrendering ourselves completely to Christ, and then living out Christ's message by sharing the gospel in word and in deed.

In my 70 years on this planet have I consistently done that? Heck no. I am a sinner, but I am a redeemed sinner. God has done so many wonderful things in our lives and taught me so much about patience and waiting. My life (in fact no one's life) has not been easy; it has been fraught with crises and stress, deaths and sickness, lawsuits, and the shunning by family and friends. Through it all (the operative word being "through") God leads the way, and I follow (albeit not always my first inclination--I like to be in control).

In Luke 4:18 (ESV), Jesus said: “He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed.” He is still doing that today, through His followers.

As I look back over these past seven decades, I am astounded and amazed at the beauty of His plan, His will for my life. I would love to share the good news with you, with my friends, with anyone who is tired of the hate, the tribal mentality so prevalent right now. If that is you, I will gladly buy you a coffee, listen to your story, and pray with you.

It would be my honor.

Peace when under fire

Peace--vertical and horizontal. So often I have thought of peace as merely peace within myself, peace with myself, peace in me. While that peace is important and essential to being open to God's grace, it is a very narrow view of the peace God can and will give us. Peace vertically--being at peace with what God does and does not do in my life, peace with His plan for my life. Peace with God. Peace in my heart, peace that assures me He is in control, that He has me in His hand and his plan is perfect.

Horizontal peace, peace with others, with our situation, with the world, can only emanate frm my heart if I am at peace with my God; if I do not trust Him to provide and lead me and clear any obstacles, I will not have peace with the world around me. If I am worried and anxious about anything in my life, I must surrender to the peace I have with my creator to experience "peace that surpasses all understanding," a peace that calms my soul and tells me God has a plan. Now does that mean I never worry? That I never get upset? Heck no! I am human, I have doubts, I foolishly think I can control my life better than the One who gave me life.  I go to His word and rely on the promises in the Bible. Many who profess to be Christians do not yet possess that peace--they continue to depend on the world for solutions.

Election results, inflation, sickness, war, natural disasters, marital strife. I see it on the news, on social media, and in person every single day. One friend is terrified of what the current administration will mean for the safety of her childen's futures. Another friend is frantic about what the immigration crisis and newly formed policies mean for her family in Houston. Still others post memes celebrating their apparent victory in the past election, lauding the newly elected president as the solution to all the country's problems, while the opposite predicts all is lost and claims half the country are evil. Friends in India have familty members in northern India affected by ethnic wars and poverty. The ongoing strife in Gaza and Israel, the war in Ukraine, human trafficking in Asia and the US, genocide in Africa, childhood cancer, global unrest, starvation--the list is endless. All of these are evidence of a broken world, a fallen human race that rejected God in the garden, and nothing will fix it until Christ returns as He promised.

Yes, I too am affected by the brokenness of our world, by unfairness and strife and sickenss. I grieve the loss of my parents, the estrangement of my siblings and stepdaughter, the mental and physical burden of caring for my brother and the apparent lack of resources. But I continue to return to that peace, that wonderful peace that washes my worries away. I am sad for those friends of mine who do not possess this precious peace becaue they choose to reject God; they worry and fret and are frightened and angry at the things in the world, and they are incredulous at my lack of concern. I pray constantly for them to receive and accept Jesus and to receive the wonderful FREE gift (I know, that is redundant...a gift is free by definiton) of God's grace.  

Peace. Breathe. Peace. Rest. Peace. Trust. 

“Be still, and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth!” (Psalm 46:10 ESV)

Election Day

Election Day. A day I used to look forward to, excited to cast my vote as an American citizen, taking advantage of a rare and wonderful privilege: to be part of the process in choosing our country’s judicial, legislative, and executive leadership. Not just at the federal level, no, but at every level, down to the smallest county seat and school board. In previous elections I’d spend hours gathering ballot and platform information to make informed decisions about nominees and proposals. I would attend rallies, talk to friends, watch debates and programs, and of course pray. If i supported a candidate, I’d put a sign in the yard or a bumper sticker on my car. I may even have worn a campaign button. My parents and I would talk about issues, but no one ever got too upset or slammed anyone who had a different point of view. And we respected others’ opinions, and knew to never bring up money, politics, or religion in polite conversation. 

Now I dread Election Day,and all the days leading up to it. I used to think the NBA had the longest season. Or that Christmas started obscenely earlier than it should. But since 2012, election mania has pervasively infected every aspect of our daily lives far too prematurely, sometimes as early as two years before the expiration of the incumbent’s term  honestly, since 2016, I believe it has been nonstop. I’ve stopped watching the nightly national news, something I used to enjoy, because it is anything but news. I cringe when I overhear political comments as they are often laced with vitriol and untruths, and I sadly watch as our country has been torn in two, whether it is on social media, in a sports bar, in church, or at a restaurant. People are now labeled and judged solely based on who they vote for, as if that parameter describes every facet of a human being. The titles of respect for those in office, from a city mayor to our country’s President, are no longer seen as relevant. Or elected officials are called by their last name or worse yet, called derisive names as if we were in a school playground.  Nominees are dehumanized so thoroughly through media—YouTube, FaceBook, the major news outlets, their opponents—it has become commonplace to call them names, draw disgusting cartoons, or even attempt assassinations. And now, anyone who supports these nominees are of course seen as less than human as well. Oh how Screwtape must gloat!

I love my country. I love America. I respect the office of every elected official, but especially that of the President of the United States. How could I not? I am a veteran and the President is the military commander in chief. Democrat or Republican. But more importantly, I am Christian, and scripture instructs me to do so. Yes  I voted Republican, all the way. I voted for former President Trump. Not because I think he is perfect, not because I think Vice president Harris is evil or stupid, but because of my beliefs.  In four years we do it all over again. And again after that. But Jesus will always be the King. Whether you vote for Him or not.

“Let everyone be subject to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except that which God has established. The authorities that exist have been established by God.” (Roman’s 13:1)

The Chasm in Between

Alex and I have a strong desire to help others, especially those who cannot (or maybe will not) help themselves. Whatever the genesis, I can tell you what it is not. It is not a cry for attention, or an urge to look good. It is NOT virtue signaling, or pity, or feeling better than someone else. And we are not trying to singlehandedly save the universe, nor are we naive enough to believe that everyone we try to help will respond positively. The path to helping other human beings is fraught with all kinds of  danger, a veritable minefield of the worst characteristics of human nature: greed, selfishness, pride, envy, shame, and guilt, to name just a few. So missteps are not uncommon and more often than not the proffered help is not even appreciated, let alone accepted.

Through the years we have helped (or attempted to, anyway) our children, our coworkers, our friends, and our parents, our neighbors, and complete strangers. Over the past five or six years, the desire to help seemed to grow more urgent. We are  retired, our children are grown, and we have everything we need; naturally as Christians we want to share what we have and what we have learned with others. Retirement is not the death knell for life as we know it, and we offer our help aligned with God's law. When someone comes into our lives or our path and we "feel" God has placed that person there for a reason, we reflect on that and pray and discuss it with each other before making a big commitment; we have found if we just rashly jump into it without prayerful reflection and talking to each other, the end result has been less than ideal.  

But how do you help someone who doesn’t want the help? How do you help someone who doesn’t know he needs help? Or, how do you help someone who wants the help, knows he needs it, but doesn’t know how to ask or receive it or find it? That seems to be the sticking point for me, anyway, right now...maybe Alex is doing okay, but my heart hurts. And I am confused! Why does God put these people in our lives, ask us to help them, only to allow them to reject our help? Let's face it, it gets very disheartening when your help is not wanted or when your motives are misconstrued. (And I am not just referring to the fiasco with my mom 5 years ago, either.) We may have loads of life experience and education, and yes we have God on our side, but trying to figure out what to say and when to say it and when to shut up and when to press on and when to let go is a Herculean task! The tendency (actually if I am honest with myself, the very strong urge) to push my help, to control the situation, to steer the end result toward my desired conclusion, where everyone lives happily ever after and there is no more pain and suffering, that tendency is overwhelming. 

I really feel as if there is a huge, bottomless chasm between me and the person(s) I am trying to help, and I don't know how to reach them, to make them see how much they matter to me and to God, and to open their eyes to the ugliness of their sin without making them feel any worse. To reach out and take the wonderful bridge that is God's grace. I just do not have the words, and I am at a loss to help them. I guess I will have to let the Holy Spirit take this one.

On Destiny

Why does one person accept a proffered helping hand while yet another person rejects it completely? How does one person escape from an inevitable future of poverty, abuse and addiction, yet another breaks free of the cycle? Is it chance? Fate? Something I did? Something I did not do? Two young people, from the same community, same backgrounds, similar histories of abuse, neglect, and abject hopelessness, recently came into our lives, put in our path by God's divine plan. One is a young man we've known for a few months, who's sporadically helped us as a handyman and laborer, who Alex took under his wing to mentor and guide and perhaps to break the cycle of bad choices; the other is a young unmarried mom introduced to us by friends up the road when she became homeless and had no place else to turn. Both of them experienced a childhood no child should ever even know about, let alone live. Both had at least one person who cared about them, who reached out to them, but, for one reason or another, who also deserted them and gave up. Both of them were failed by an inadequate system, lost in a social services network overburdened by hundreds of lost children just like them. Both of them bounced from house to house, even ending up living in the woods or by the river because they either had no place else to go, or because the alternative was to live in homes so toxic it would destroy them. 

The young man has tried to change, but keeps getting sucked back into the only world he has ever known, believing the lies that he is hopeless, that he will never change, and that he can fix himself. He says his kids are his everything, but puts himself first. And now, after weeks of us trying to help him--going to parole meetings, posting bond, and countless talks and meals and prayer--he has vanished back into the woods, back to his comfort zone, possibly back to drugs. The young woman got a job thanks to her cousin, and has kept that job for over a month; she is currently looking for her own place. I am amazed at what a caring, loving and consistent mom she is, especially since she had no positive role model growing up. 

I can't help but compare this scenario to my own life, and, more broadly, to mankind. We are all so desperately lost, following the ways of the world and listening to the whispers of Satan since Adam and Eve capitulated to the serpent in the Garden. We make the same mistakes over and over again, and think we can fix it, that we know better, that we have all the answers. And God is always there, reaching out for us, offering His help and wisdom through His word, and many of us stubbornly refuse His help, and reject the precious gift of His Son. 

Is one person stronger or more resilient than the other? I just don't know. What I do know is that without grace I would still be lost, heading towards ruin and an eternity of suffering. Like the song, I once was lost, but now am found, was blind but now I see. By grace. God's amazing grace. 

On antisocial media

I just spent the last hour doing two things: reading and responding to social media posts, and playing Farm Heroes Saga, and the most productive (and least depressing) activity was hands down the second one. Here it is, Saturday morning in the mountains, a gorgeous late August day, sun shining, after a good night's sleep in our beautiful home, and my eyes are brimming with tears out of sadness, frustration, and a sense of hopelessness all because of what I have ingested online. And I am ashamed--ashamed because I let it get to me, ashamed that I have not even prayed let alone open my Bible, ashamed at the excuses I make to rationalize every moment I spend scrolling through posts and comments and memes and photos. "I like to keep up with what's going on in my friends' lives," "I only use FaceBook for seeing and sharing photos of my grandkids," "I need the platform to promote the charity I endorse and volunteer for," "How else can I find out what is happening in my community and how I can help?," and "I only follow people, groups and blogs that are not antithetical to my beliefs and values."  For the past three years I have fooled myself into believing I can use social media for good; that I can control my tongue, sit on my hands, and refrain from snarky comments; and that in no way will any social media platform affect my mood or impact the state of my soul. Yet here I am, blogging about just that.

Sure, I have tried to minimize my exposure to negativity by unfollowing people who post inflammatory memes and comments, by ignoring the algorithm-generated newsfeed and pages, by blocking the trolls who have nothing better to do than stir the pot, and by leaving those groups bent on divisiveness. And when I do open up my computer and click on that FaceBook bookmark, I tell myself I am only checking the status of an item I posted for sale, or a request for volunteers for St Baldrick's. Who am I kidding? Not myself, and least of all God. Five, ten, thirty, ninety minutes later, I find myself no wiser, and, worst of all, I realize I have not even remotely represented Christ, shared my faith, or spread the Good News. Every post I submit, every comment I make, every photo I share, deep down I am looking for approval, and weighing my sense of worth on how many positive emojis I garner. When I think I am posting or sharing something out of love for others, when I really peel it back, I am looking for affirmation.  I intentionally seek out groups and "friends" who think the same way I do, and who will give me that sought-after thumbs up, or better yet, a heart. In person I almost NEVER share my thoughts on a subject or my opinion with strangers; in fact, I am quite introverted around people I do not know, only offering basic social courtesies--a handshake, a hello, a smile. I shrink from engaging in debates and conversations in groups unless I know each and every person, and even then, I tend to keep my thoughts to myself (even if I do roll my eyes) 🙄. But, put me behind a screen and the veil is off, safe behind the anonymity of a keyboard.

If something I wear makes me itch, or is uncomfortable, I don't wear it--I either toss it or donate it. When I am driving down the road and a song comes on that I hate, I change the station or turn off the radio. If it is too hot, I turn on the a/c; too cold, I put on a sweater or turn up the heat. When confronted with something I know is evil and wrong and against God's law, I avoid it. But I have allowed the poison of anti-social media to seep into my heart and into my soul, and it is robbing me of my present--I cannot enjoy the world in front of me, all around me, if I am engaged with the false reality of what is on the internet's social media sites. I become trapped in the filth and the depression and the neediness of the world, and I want to fix it and help and respond to every single thing. Floods, cancer, deaths, bombings, hurricanes--it all pulls at my heart. Looking down at what is on my computer or my phone keeps me from looking up and around at what is going on in my home, my family, my community. Even now as I type this, I am being drawn to open another tab in my browser and click on that FaceBook icon, to check if anyone I know posted a photo, to see what local groups are heralding as newsworthy. As if there is anything newsworthy on a website that caters to, no, promotes, divisiveness and the tribal mentality of “if you don’t agree with everything I say and do, then you are my enemy”. Social media is no longer social or sociable, and it never was courteous; instead, FaceBook, Twitter, TikTok, and their ilk, while they seemingly began as online gathering places for sharing funny cat videos and opinions and as a way to “meet” people, are now just giant echo chambers.

Four years ago I extricated myself from the vacuous, rabble-rousing, and one-sided 24-hour news stations where talking heads droned on ad nauseum about anything and everything. News—HA!—as if the mainstream media provide anything news worthy without burdening viewers with their opinions.  I have not missed anything, either; the world hasn’t stopped turning on its axis and the sun still does come up in the east. As for FaceBook, perhaps it is time to take a break, maybe even close my account, and stop making excuses for the time I waste in virtual reality, to quit justifying my social media presence; I don't really need to know what my 487 "friends" are eating or doing or wearing or thinking. Instead, I should be focusing on what my immediate family and neighbors are doing and thinking, and spending time with real people, getting real hugs, and sharing their very real joys and sorrows. Bottom line: If it neither edifies people or glorifies God, it is not worth the time. 

When you care to send the very best?

Has the digital age brought about the demise of greeting cards? Is it really that gauche or antiquated or wasteful or silly to spend a few minutes to pick out a card, sign it, and mail it? Or are we back to the "save a tree, save the earth" rhetoric? What if I buy a card made of recycled paper, designed by the blind, with proceeds going to starving children in South America? Is it okay then? Regardless, I love getting cards, picking out cards, making cards. I even participate in helping make cards for the shut-ins in nursing homes and hospices and assisted living facilities here in our little town; when I started and wanted to know what kind of card to make, the organizer told me, "Make it a visit in an envelope." Those folks cherish their cards, read and reread them, and hang them in their rooms. If I was a shut-in, that'd be me.

You see, we grew up sending and receiving greeting cards to mark special occasions and  express thanks, sympathy, congratulations. Our parents never forgot a birthday, anniversary, or Christmas, many times tucking cash or even checks in those cards. We raised our kids to write thank you notes for Christmas and birthday gifts before the wrapping paper even made it to the trash bin. As our kids grew older, we sent birthday cards, notes, and yes, we were now the ones to tuck cash and checks (and later, gift cards and iTunes cards) into the envelopes; gifts were always accompanied by a personalized card, neatly tucked under the ribbon, and at family gatherings everyone would sit and listen to the gift recipient reading each and every card before opening the gift. Prior to big holidays (Christmas, Mother's Day, and Father's Day), I would make a list of folks for whom we had to buy cards; we would spend lots of time in the greeting card aisles finding cards with just the right sentiment for each member of the family at Christmas, buying cards far in advance of everyone's birthdays so we would have them on hand and get them in the mail on time.

Yesterday was my husband's birthday--his 55th, as a matter of fact. Last month we celebrated our anniversary, Father's Day, and my birthday. Guess how many cards we received for all of these occasions, not counting the ones from each other and from our church? Yeah, not many. And yes, we adore the phone calls, the videos, and the live video chats--we would not trade those for the world! But there is just something about checking the mail and seeing a colored, hand addressed envelope with your name on it, and even better are those precious handmade, handwritten cards and notes from children and grandchildren. When we do receive them, they are proudly displayed in a prominent location for days, many times getting moved to the laundry room to hang with the grandkids' artwork. And the VERY special ones? We wrap them up and put them in the keepsake box.

Our parents loved receiving cards; when we called to wish them Merry Christmas or Happy whatever-day, they would thank us for the card, and comment on how pretty or heartfelt the card was, and it warmed my heart. My dad especially loved cards, and he would proudly display each and every one on the TV in the living room, picking them up several times and re-reading them; he would wait expectantly for a card from each of his children, then grandchildren, at those special occasions.  And if one of his children did not send a card, he was crestfallen. After my dad died, I found a huge box on the top shelf of their spare closet; in it was every single greeting card my dad had received from his wife, children, and grandchildren. I cried as I looked through the box and spied cards I had sent over the years, and, realizing how much they meant to him, I was so glad I spent so much time selecting each and every one. After Alex's mom died, he retrieved boxes upon boxes filled with thousands, yes thousands, of cards and letters and postcards, some in English and some in Spanish. After almost two years of poring over each and every one, he has finally succeeded in sorting them out, sending only a fraction of them off to various family members.

All of our parents died in the last three years; maybe it is the newness of not receiving that familiar card with that instantly recognizable scrawl that makes it so disappointing when the mailbox is empty. This past Christmas was especially difficult, as it was the first one without our parents; both Alex and I could not even bring ourselves to celebrate our birthdays and anniversary last year--they just seemed hollow without the well wishes of our parents.  Maybe as time goes on, we won't miss those cards so much. Maybe we will get used to FaceBook posts and video chats as the new means of heralding another special occasion. Admittedly, I have my own box of memories, and although I'm a tad more selective in what I have saved over the years--not saving every card like Dad--there are a still a substantial amount of cards and notes from children, grandchildren, and of course from the love of my life. And I am not alone; Alex has a military duffel full of letters I wrote him during his long deployment during Desert Storm--every single letter I wrote. As we get older though, we are adding fewer and fewer keepsakes to my memory box because we just are not receiving as many tangible, physical things; videos and phone calls and FaceBook posts cannot be placed in a box or slipped into a photo album. Hmmm....perhaps I will start just printing them off so as to not have decades not represented by memories and cards.

I know, the pragmatists out there will shake their fingers at me and tell me to live in the present. "You're making lots of memories," they'd shout, and the majority of those memories are intangible; cards are only paper and ink after all. Nevertheless, the romantic in me retorts there is just something about a box of things--buttons, stacks of cards tied with ribbon, old report cards, scout badges, even baby teeth--things you can touch and feel and read and laugh and cry over. After all, when we go on to that great beyond, and our children and grandchildren find our keepsakes and cards and letters we've gathered over the decades,  how they will react? Will they cry? Laugh? Put everything in their own memory boxes?

Hopefully, just hopefully, each of them will know and see and feel how much they were loved. How much they ARE loved.

Black and White

Black and white. "Here it is...in black and white." A phrase that can mean several things... an obvious answer,  or something reliable and credible, or seeing things only in absolute terms. Sadly, what is happening in our country right now (again) is none of those things. On the surface, it appears to be about black versus white, black lives vs white lives, black injustice vs white privilege, black subjugation vs white dominance. In reality, though, events this week are not that easily explained. Or understood. Or solved. For the past 8 days, I have been on the brink of tears, feeling them well up inside me and my heart aching until my eyes are near brimming before I take a deep breath and pray and push them back down. Because if I was to give in to the feeling, let the tears fall, there would be no end to them, and the hopelessness of the situation would drown me. So I pray some more, read articles, watch news videos, and skim posts on social media to get a sense of the battle we face. An age old battle, since the beginning of creation, with eternal consequences. 

Black and white. Sin. Evil. Light. Darkness. In its most basic, age old form: hatred of a group of humans because they are different. Genocides. Gendercides. Ethnic cleansing. Apartheid. Racism. Any time one human presumes superiority over another human, we have evil.  In its most basic form. So much hate, Lord, so much injustice, so much pain. Cities under siege, people hating each other, taking sides, destroying lives and property and futures. Social media sites exploding with videos, live feeds, posts, debates, photos, news updates, and so much self-serving, hate-filled rhetoric and ugliness. The implicit made explicit. I read posts, try to answer, to reason, to express my heart, but I, too, am lost as to how to make sense of it all, and it shows. In my struggle to find the right words, to try to speak calm and love and peace, inevitably I only succeed in irritating someone or being misunderstood and am subjected to retorts and accusations that, I am ashamed to say, I sometimes answer in a less than loving manner. My daughters are distraught and want answers to why this is happening, and for once, I fail as a mom--I have no answers, no reasons, no prescription for fixing this, no trite explanations for why people are doing what they are doing. There is no simple answer. Yes, sin is the root cause of all evil and sadness and suffering in this world. But identifying that sin is the answer and the cause of it all does not make any of it magically go away. 

Black and white. And in some feeble attempt to make sense of it all, to do something, some elements of music industry organized a collective action, Blackout Tuesday, to protest racism and police brutality. The action, organized in response to recent killings of unarmed black men, is taking place today, June 2, 2020--my 65th birthday. Not only are businesses taking part encouraged to abstain from releasing music and other business operations--now social media users are posting blank, black squares in lieu of cover and profile photos. But, like other groupthink efforts, folks seem to just be following blindly in an effort to be viewed as sympathetic and supportive of racial injustice; even I considered, for a nanosecond, joining this non-movement. Because it is only cosmetic, and does not solve anything. It neither promotes love nor heals the hate, the rift we have--it reduces the underlying disease to a slogan, a saying, a hashtag, without offering a cure or even a bandaid. 

Black and white. So what do we do? What do I do? What is my purpose in this? To reflect Christ, yes. To love his image bearers--all of them. To show the way, to see peace, to show the light of the gospel. But when? How? How can we rebuild? How do we heal?  How do we make sense of it all? And when, God? When will we all be reconciled not just to You, but to our fellow man? How long must we tear each other apart? Where is your purpose in all of this suffering and hatred? Separated from each other, and separated from You. 

Black and white. We don't heal by hurting others. We don't rebuild by tearing down. We don't reconcile by hating others. We don't heal by disrespecting others. We don't heal by focusing only on differences, but by realizing that, despite differences, we are all image bearers of our Creator. For this, for this, Jesus died...to reconcile a helpless, hopeless people to God and to each other. For God is neither black nor white, or red or brown or yellow; God is not a color. God is LOVE. Infinitesimal love for every single one of His creations. And while we are not God, we are made in HIS image, and should reflect HIS love, HIS beauty, HIS grace. God is love, and He is light. Light defeats darkness--even in a world full of darkness, all one needs to do is shine one small light to dispel some of the darkness.

Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children. And walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God. (Ephesians 5:1-2)

There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave[g] nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus. (Galatians 3:28)

ILL EQUIPPED

If I have learned anything over the past five years, it is that I may like the IDEA of being a caregiver, but I am not equipped for it. And it drives me crazy, because I am accustomed to being given a task or assigned a role, adapting to it, and then excelling in record time. School, military, new jobs, knitting and crocheting, learning languages--piece of cake. Raised two beautiful, independent, conscientious women, and was a foster mom to several teenage girls. Handled all that life could throw at me, and thought I was pretty well equipped to handle anything else. Until now.

Going into year three as a caregiver for my mentally handicapped brother, I am painfully aware how ill-equipped. I'm a full-time caregiver, housekeeper, guardian, nurse, accountant, counselor, therapist, cheerleader, disciplinarian, and social services caseworker. And now with truly essential services (like school, doctors, respite care) shut down, it is a 24/7 responsibility that I share with my husband (who at times seems to be better equipped for this duty than me). We have taken on something we thought we understood, but we really had no earthly idea how complex this would be. No, we assumed it would be like raising our kids, like taking care of a small child. Or perhaps similar to  supervising an adult who was maybe a little confused. It is NOT anything like either of those scenarios. Not one bit. 

First of all, we were 40 years younger when we were parents, and though it was a learning process, we muddled through at first, gradually getting more adept at parenting, and finally, hopefully, we graduated to being parents of grown children. That was the goal, the objective, the target, the entire time our children were with us, through all the stages. We knew it was going to end, and that we would be successful. Not the case with someone who is intellectually and/or developmentally delayed. Growth and learning and moving on to the next stage just don't happen in this world. Sure, we have and see small incremental changes, but every day is the same. Every. Single. Day. 

Second, caring for elderly parents, while difficult emotionally as well as physically at times, presents different challenges. Challenges that are well-documented and expected and planned for, with lots of support out there. Everyone has parents, and everyone has people in their lives who grow old, more feeble, and need assistance. Eldercare is not anything new anymore. There are countless options and alternatives available to family members caring for aging relatives, and more importantly, a HUGE support network, whether through formal channels like healthcare and social services or church, or via informal venues such as friends and social media. Caring for a relative with "special needs" has very little of that support network. Information and resources are few and far between, and navigating whatever system exists to help families cope with challenges requires the sleuth capabilities of a seasoned private investigator. Terminology is ambiguous, and so frustratingly stigmatized. Despite all our advances with technology, travel, healthcare, mental health support, and social programs, our world continues to trivialize, mis-label, marginalize and be embarrassed by this population of individuals who, through no fault or doing of their own, were born into a world they will never understand. Along with their family members. 

Sure, some communities have programs that help, and there is an army of dedicated, selfless direct support staff who deal with folks like my brother every day, and truly excel at it, and love what they do. Believe me, I am in constant awe of these folks. They are heroes and angels and have amazing super powers. But they need funding. State-run benefits do exist but they don't come anywhere NEAR to meeting the actual need, and there is no federal program at all, not that I have found or seen. My parents took care of my brother for 65 years, moving from state to state to chase funded, barely adequate state programs. Affordable respite care, group homes, and in-home care are practically nonexistent, difficult to find, and clients are on lists for decades before a spot opens up, and to qualify, you have to prove eligibility. In our case, I had to find something that "proved" my brother's "condition" existed before his 21st birthday. Really? My parents were dead, and I had to find something that proved he wasn't faking or I wasn't lying. Like I would really make this up to get on a list for care he wouldn't receive in at least 10 years. (I did find a single page of a school psychiatrist report from 1962--luckily, they accepted that). The only other option is private pay, but again, there are not enough suitable facilities where he can reside with folks like him, so many families resort to placing their relatives in assisted living facilities or nursing homes. If they have money, they pay for a nice one. If they don't, they hope for the best and apply for Medicaid assistance.

I've lived long enough to watch our world go from institutionalizing people like my brother in state facilities, to trying to educate them separately, to attempting to normalize them into society. None of these have worked--they were merely smoke and mirrors to try to hide him away, and at the same time, not admit that something has to be done to help families, and these individuals, deal with the very unique challenges and issues that face them every single minute of every single day.  So again, I repeat, I am ill-equipped to deal with the cards we've been dealt.

But I will do the best I can, soldier on, and just get used to the fact this is something I will never excel at, never adapt to and never understand. Except with God's grace, that is.

As a nation, no, as a world, we have got to do better. We are all God's children, we are ALL created in His image, and we ALL deserve the same chance to achieve our purpose in life.

Now may the God of peace who brought again from the dead our Lord Jesus, the great shepherd of the sheep, by the blood of the eternal covenant, equip you with everything good that you may do his will, working in us[a] that which is pleasing in his sight, through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory forever and ever. Amen. (Hebrews 13:20-21)

Blowin' in the wind

Another day, another tragedy.  Senseless violence.  Blood spatter on video games so real, I want to puke.  Rubbernecking at a gory interstate multiple car crash.  Civil wars, genocide, infanticide.  Refugees from Syria, Nigeria, Rwanda, Myanmar.  Endless media coverage of graphic footage of (insert recent violent act here).  Talking heads debating who caused it, how to stop it. Finger pointing, turning a blind eye. A flurry of outrage on Instagram, FaceBook, Twitter, and at the coffee shop.  Everyone wants to do something, but time marches on.  We become even more numb, and we move on, back to our comfortable lives, satisfied that our posts and our well-meaning prayers adequately express our sorrow and indignation. Until the next time.  Who caused it?  Why?  How could someone do this?  Why doesn't God answer?  Where IS God in all this?  Blowing' in the wind...

Playing in my head right now are songs of the 60s, especially Dylan's, more specifically, the first one I learned to play on a cheap six-string guitar.  Blowing' In The Wind was written almost 60 years ago, sung by Joan Baez, Peter Paul and Mary, and of course, Dylan. It was a staple at Vietnam war protests, rallies, and sit-ins.  My generation took up the call as an anthem for change.  We thought it was simple...congregate and sing some protest songs, resist, march. Anti guns, anti-war, stop poverty, civil rights marches, stop racism. Watts,  John Lennon, Harlem, Woodstock, Guthrie, Charles Manson, Black Panthers, Patty Hearst, Ho Chi Minh Trail, Mekong Delta, communes, hippies, free love.  We were so in touch, so passionately desperate for peace, and we thought we had all the answers.  All we had to do was sing, wear flowers in our hair, and change the world. We tried to grasp the answers, hell, we tried to grasp the questions...blowin' in the wind.  

I still don't have the answer. Many people think they do. Control guns. Mental  health. Get to church. Read the Bible. Home school. Turn off your iPhones and disconnect from all the electronics. Go back to nature. Pray. Love. Do good.  Confront. Don't confront. I don't have a clue. Dylan didn't either, he was quite cryptic about it, saying "There ain't much I can say about this song, except the answer is blowin' in the wind. It ain't no book or movie or TV show or discussion group, man, it's in the wind."

Bob Dylan, Blowin in the Wind

Friendship

When I was a little girl, I had very few friends, and over the years, although I've met many, many people, that still rings true. I have gained friends and lost friends, and both experiences are completely beyond my comprehension; many people whom I considered as friends turned out to not be friends at all. I don't say that to garner sympathy, but to emphasize that true friends are rare, and, as Robert Louis Stevenson said, a friend is a gift we give ourselves.  

The meaning of friendship has cheapened over the past decade, thanks largely to our addiction to social media sites like FaceBook, Twitter, and Instagram. A friend used to be someone with whom you had a close bond, not sexual, not family, but someone with whom you share a mutual attraction. Friends share secrets, jokes, a past--a true friend knows you better than you know yourself. Songs have been written about friends, a TV show made six young people famous overnight, and adages abound regarding friends.  "A friend in need is a friend indeed." (old English proverb); "Make new friends, keep the old, one is silver and the other gold." (old Girl Scout song); "What a friend we have in Jesus!" (Joseph Scriven,) "Oooh, you're making me live, you're my best friend!" (Freddie Mercury), "A sweet friendship refreshes the soul." (Proverbs 27:9), "A single soul dwelling in two bodies" (Aristotle).

Nowadays, a "friend" is just a face on a website, a name, a tally on a list.  This friend could be a relative, a co-worker, an acquaintance, a friend of one of your friends, a friend's children, or a customer. More often than not, a friend could  be someone we have not even physically met.  "Friend requests" are akin to offering someone a piece of gum.  According to FaceBook, I have 301 "friends," yet many of the people I consider close friends and actually speak to on something other than a screen are not even on FaceBook, let alone on that list.  What was once just a noun has become a verb, and created new words in the urban lexicon. Someone "friends" you to be in your social circle, and "unfriending" has become the internet equivalent of a cold shoulder, a schoolyard spat, or "talk to the hand."  Want to shun someone? Take more drastic action by "blocking" him, effectively cutting that person out of your social media circle completely. So complicated, and so meaningless--we are constantly checking our friends' statuses, looking at photos, commenting on their posts, all the while not even truly engaged in communicating with each other. Heck, many times we are with OTHER friends while we rudely keep our faces buried in our phones and tablets to "talk" to our virtual, not-present friends.  

So, why the rant today? Tired of friend requests from people I barely know, or people who would rather not even speak to me. Disgusted that I actually stooped to practically begging to be "friends" with some of my relatives, even though they haven't spoken to me for years. Shocked that I had to resort to "blocking" most of my immediate family members to prevent online harassment. Hurt that there are family members who actually equate FaceBook "friendship" with a real relationship. Embarrassed that I actually gauge my likability rating in my family by who is my friend, and who is not. Sick of the overuse of words that used to mean something:  Like. Love. Friend. Sad.  Happy. Angry. Hate. 

Most of all, I am trying to reconcile my faith, my beliefs, and my love of Christ with all of this. Not all my friends are Christians, but they are still my friends. Not all my friends are on FaceBook, and not all my FaceBook friends are really my friends.  

I wish FaceBook would just use a different word than "friend." How about "face?"  Or "person of interest," or "contact,"  or "practically meaningless virtual person?"  

Just not "friend."

In Christ. On Facebook.

Neither Jesus nor St Paul ever used the word "Christian," yet Paul used the phrase "in Christ" over 150 times.  Over the years I have given a lot of thought and prayer to what it means to be a Christian, to be "In Christ." And I would be lying to say I haven't struggled with it, because it is a process--sanctification takes a lifetime.  

Sometimes it is easier than other times to be a Christian. Church definitely is one of those places it is easy. Also, in my car, or at home, or with fellow believers. Gets a little harder to be a Christian in the car when someone pulls in front of you and then flips you off.  It also isn't easy to quote Psalms when some 15 year old cashier is rude to you, or when your dog throws up on the good rug. And it is extremely difficult to maintain one's Christian decorum and keep pleasant thoughts when friends and family are hateful--especially sisters.  And your mom. But I must admit, the most challenging place to be a true Christian these days is not even a place at all, but it sure takes up a lot of our time...the internet.Cyberspace The web. Social media.And, while I do trust in God's omniscience, I seriously doubt Paul or any of the apostles could ever have foreseen Twitter, Instagram, or Facebook. Being on FaceBook is a nice pastime, a safe hobby, as long as I don't start taking myself or other FaceBook posts too seriously.   

I have Christian friends, and non-Christian friends, but I try to keep things on social media fairly innocuous--as much as I can, I try to stay away from the big three:  politics, money, and religion.  And, while I want to be myself, I also don't want to just put a bunch of pointless information out there either--there really is such a thing as too many cat videos. One of the most valuable lessons I've learned? Sitting on my hands is the equivalent of biting my tongue when I want to say something a little too hastily, or spout off some sarcastic witticism before I read the entire post, or before I jump to false conclusions about what someone is trying to say. There are enough devil's advocates and internet trolls lurking about cyberspace ready to pounce on a lively debate and discussion to plant seeds of discontent and hate--I don't need to add to that number. And yes, sadly, not everyone really cares about seeing all 9,752 photos of my adorable grandchildren.  

There are times I will comment on someone else's post, or deliberately read posts where the obvious objective is to stir the pot, knowing that I will definitely NOT agree with what is being discussed. There is something to be said about an intelligent banter, as long as no one starts getting offensive or shooting their mouth off too much. Sometimes I just like to sit back and read all the comments and replies and comments to the replies. Other times, all it takes is a cursory scan of two or three lines, and I hurriedly hit the page down or back key. And yes, there are subjects I will definitely not entertain thinking, reading, or discussing--not out of fear, but out of respect for God's commandments. Normally, though, the fewer obscenities, the better the grammar and spelling, the more likely a post is to keep my attention; repeated expletives really just highlight someone's small vocabulary, and while minor misspellings are understandable, the post should have some sort of sentence structure that makes sense.  

Leading up to the 2016 election, I initially tried to steer clear of posts even hinting at controversy.  Then, the more polarized the country became, it became harder to navigate social media and still remain, well, sociable. First I tried to ignore a lot of it, even resorting to "unfollowing" some of my friends because I just couldn't handle all the frenzied feeds popping up on an average day. News hoaxes. Weird links.  Suggested websites. Folks screaming at each other IN ALL CAPS.  Immediately after the election, there was great mourning by some of friends, and gleeful "i told you so" by others. None of it made me feel any better.  Some even made me really sad.  At first I commented on a few--initially, only posts that I agreed with. You know, posts celebrating conservative, Christian values. But then I noticed my Christian friends were getting dragged into arguments. And they did not always fare too well.  Trolls were jumping in on their comments. Nowhere was safe!  Now what?  I decided this is all out war! So, I updated my friends list and decided to "follow" all of them.  Even my liberal friends.  

And that is how, in a recent discussion, I repeated some clever meme I read somewhere about how lately the world seems to worry about offending anyone and everyone but God. I thought it was perfectly germane to the issue being discussed, but another participant did not understand what I meant, so I queried "?????", to which she replied with a long answer about how so-called Christians, in her recent experience, have shown more hate and less acceptance than those who do not profess to be Christians. And then she said, "with all due respect, if we offend people, then we offend God." I was in the middle of rolling my eyes, and then, I took a deep breath.  Thought about what she said--she was right.  I had used some clever little saying that I thought fit the context, trying to show how righteous I was, and how I could fit in to this conversation and still maintain my superior Christian ethics, and there it was...her simple reply...if we offend people, then we offend God.    

So many times, on social media, in the news, in personal encounters, Christians are described as two-faced, racists, bigots, misogynists, and homophobes (we are not).  The recent election, unfortunately, has equated Christianity with Trump, and somehow, being Christian now equals close-mindedness, and hatred of all things different. All the hot button topics--gay marriage, abortion, transgender bathrooms, medical marijuana, immigration, poverty, Clinton, Trump, Black Lives Matter, racial profiling--these are gut-wrenching, emotional issues, and are viewed differently by different people. But, as a Christian, being in Christ, I am united to Christ, part of Christ.  So when I view these issues, and, stepping out on a limb here, when fellow Christians view these issues, we are all viewing them as we feel Christ views them.  We forget that not everyone is using that same frame of reference, so when I as a Christian say abortion is wrong, what the rest of the world hears is "you are wrong."  And so the argument begins. Doors slam shut. The walls go up. Fists fly.  Flags get burned. Rhetoric is thrown about. Bibles are thumped.  And no one comes out any wiser...just madder. More close minded. Backs turned. Arms folded. Unfriended. And the biggest loser?  The Gospel.  

Because I forget to be In Christ, Christ-like. I stop reflecting Christ when I project my own agenda. I am commanded to love others, to love everyone. Get that board out of my own eye before I get the tweezers out to remove a splinter from my neighbor's eye.  How in the WORLD does a Christian profess or exhibit love? By listening. By understanding. With an open mind. And an open heart. The world is listening and watching us.  It is not my place to pass judgment.  Or convince.  Or convict.  But to demonstrate, through my actions and words and deeds, how even a sinner such as me (yes, me) is precious in His sight. I am still sinning. And I will keep sinning. But I am also a saint, in Christ, chosen by Him before creation. It is that miracle, that "stupendous reality" as John Piper puts it, that I should be putting across.  In person. In all I do. In all I say. And yes, on FaceBook.

Notice we are to be SALT of the world. Not the pepper. Pepper is too spicy. And it makes you sneeze.