There is glory in this mundane
Thursday, November 1, 2018
Monday, October 22, 2018
Popsicles and Kinship
"Kinship--not serving the other, but being one with the other. Jesus was not 'a man for others;' he was one with them. There is a world of difference in that."
--From Tattoos on the Heart by Father Greg Boyle
We had been waiting for maybe an hour when she told me she was going to run back to her home across the street for some snacks to feed the girls. I held our place in line, inching forward and trying to keep the girls from running out of my sight. When she returned, she carried popsicles and water bottles because back to school in Indiana means sweat and mosquitos. She extended me a popsicle and water bottle, a generous gift from what little she had. Without even considering my response, I turned her down. I swear her face fell a little, and when I realized the gravity of what I had just done, my heart sank.
I still consider that moment to be one of my biggest regrets. In that popsicle offering, I believe she extended more than frozen sugar water. There was opportunity for mutuality, for friendship and shared resources. In the many months that have passed since that day, I have thought a lot about this idea of kinship: "Not serving the other, but being one with the other." Am I willing to step down off my pedestal of privilege, to learn from the wealth of knowledge and experience generously proffered by the other? Can I show up with empty hands and allow them to be filled?
I am most broken when I think I have it all together, destitute when I think I am rich.
And I find that my hands overflow when I let go of all I think I have to give and choose instead to stand in kinship with the other, receiving out of her generous bounty.
Wednesday, October 17, 2018
Singleness Is Not A Condition to Be Cured
We had just finished playing a board game at his kitchen
table when it happened. I thought, “Maybe being single isn’t so bad.” The past
few days had landed me on a roller coaster of emotions, riding the hills of
giddy excitement all the way to plummeting valleys of disappointment and even anxiety. The
last hour had confirmed that exchanging my singleness for a relationship with
this specific person was not a good idea. But even beyond that, I began to see
the beauty that had been cultivated in my life specifically because I was
single.
My name is Abigail, I am 28 years old, and I am single.
Why does that sound like a dreaded confession? Maybe because we treat singleness like a
condition to be cured, rather than a season to be lived.
For those of you who are married, can I have your ear for a
couple minutes? Goodness knows I’ve sat through countless sermons on marriage
and parenting. (You probably don’t need to ask how many I have heard on
singleness. Oh, and by the way, the two I sought out and listened to were
taught by men who got married in college....).
For the sake of your kids, your bachelor brother, your
unmarried friends, even that crazy cousin you don’t talk about…we have got to change the way we talk about
singleness. Or, in some cases, maybe just start talking about it at all.
When I was a little girl, all conversations about the future
went something like this: “When I am married and have a family of my own…”
Every single decision I made assumed that narrative would unfold somewhere in
the pages of my life. Not only was that story affirmed by those around me, it
was encouraged. I can’t tell you how many conversations I had in high school and
college about purity (solely for the sake of my future marriage) and healthy dating
relationships. No one talked to me about the beautiful parts of being single.
Maybe that's because we treat singleness like a condition to be
cured, rather than a season to be lived.
So in case you haven’t heard, some men and women will never
get married. In fact, as of two years ago, 53% of women in the U.S. and 47% of men were single. That means I am in the majority, not the minority. Can we stop
operating under the assumption that marriage is in the cards for everyone?
Also, news flash! There are amazing benefits to being single.
A year
ago, I quit my job and moved across the country. In the months that have unfolded
since then, I have taken spontaneous weekend trips, played countless late night
games of pinochle with my roommates, snuggled a sweet new babe who is not my
own (and handed her back at the end of the night), and devoted hours of my time
to learning from families at the local homeless shelter. My life is full
and beautiful, and I am confident that all this never would have come to pass
if I had exchanged "Miss" for "Mrs." even a few years ago.There are so many things I want to tell you about what I have learned from this journey of singleness, but I will keep it to just a few points right now:
2) Propose
singleness as a viable life plan. Introduce your kids to single adults who are
doing amazing things. Talk to them about the benefits of being single. Celebrate
the accomplishments of the single people in your life. And when that single
person laments the challenges of being single, please don’t respond with some
variation of “Don’t worry, it will happen eventually.” Because that’s not
necessarily true. Instead, try this approach: Listen. Acknowledge the
difficulties they are facing. Offer practical support. Include them in your
life and family.
3) Particularly in
a church and ministry context, be intentional about integrating singles into
your community. Of all the churches I have attended over the years, I think I
can count on one hand the number of single people in positions of leadership.
Whenever there is a lack of diversity of any kind within a leadership
structure, the message proliferated is likely going to be biased. Consider
diversifying your leadership structure (in every way!).
4) Single friends,
let’s not feed the lie that singleness is a condition to be cured. Live your
life, and live it to the fullest! Whether it is a season that will pass or a
season that will last a lifetime, take advantage of your singleness! Find ways
to serve others with the extra time you have. Do fun, spontaneous things! Live
in community. For sure, lament (again and again) the challenges and unfulfilled desires...But don’t waste your singleness pining for what you do not have. If
you do, you will miss the beauty all around you!
There is a sweet dissonance to life, isn't there? Those moments of aching beauty that rush in right alongside a deep well of pain, sadness, or longing. I'm sure you have experienced a moment like this at some point or another. Nothing has taught me about this dissonance quite like my singleness has. It is good, and hard, and lonely, and filled to the brim with adventure and intimate community. Both/and. That is the message I want to hear about singleness, and the message I want you to share with your kids.
Single friends, what would you add? Let’s keep the conversation
going.
Monday, October 15, 2018
What It Looks Like to Respect a Woman
The woman said to him, 'Sir, you have nothing to draw water with, and the well is deep. Where do you get that living water? Are you greater than our father Jacob? He gave us the well and drank from it himself, as did his sons and his livestock.' Jesus said to her, 'Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again. The water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.' The woman said to him, 'Sir, give me this water, so that I will not be thirsty or have to come here to draw water.'" (From John 4)
He never should have talked to her.
He never should have talked to her.
She was a woman, and it was well understood that a man never talked to a woman alone. To do so outside of a family context, then to drink after her? Scandalous. Not only that, but her ethnic background would have induced marked hostility between their communities. For both of these reasons, she would not have been permitted to engage in what the Jewish people defined as true worship. She would have been considered impure. Whether her five husbands had come and gone from her life by way of divorce or death, even her own community would have seen her either as a rebellious sinner or cursed. Probably both, since she was living with a man who was not her husband.
She could not have had more strikes against her if she had tried.
Which is probably why she was at the well in the middle of the day. It would have been unbearably hot, reason for most everyone else to avoid hauling water at that time. I imagine she was highly accustomed to being shamed and excluded, and maybe she hoped to avoid the sharp glances and muttered remarks from the other women for just one day. Instead, she encountered a man who would slowly dismantle every single reason for her shame and exclusion.
He engaged her, extending her respect and dignity as an intelligent human being.
He invited her into radical inclusion, revealing his divinity and inviting her into a worship even truer than the temple worship from which she would have been barred.
He extended her the most radical kind of grace. Grace that acknowledged her broken past while inviting her into a better story. Grace that allowed her to become a mouthpiece for Jesus' divine identity...a role that, in that culture, should have been reserved for a man because no one believed a woman's testimony. But Jesus believed her. Jesus accepted her without condition or merit. Jesus included her in a radical new community of worship. Jesus engaged her when no other man, not even a man from her own community, would. Jesus dismantled her shame and replaced it with dignity. Jesus stood against the rules of culture, religion, and social convention to redefine her worth and identity.
If you want to know what it looks like to respect a woman, Jesus captured it pretty well.
Wednesday, October 10, 2018
Let's park our carts for a bit and breathe, shall we?
I was standing on a street corner, and across the way I saw him. It wasn't really his person that caught my eye as much as it was the grocery cart he pushed in front of him. It was piled precariously high with an odd assortment of things. I couldn't distinguish what those "things" were, but they must have been important to him. As the light changed, signaling that pedestrians could cross, he started pushing the cart into the street. He soon disappeared behind the mound that had to reach at least seven or eight feet in height. I noticed as I passed him that he had strategically used bungie cords to hold everything in place, almost like an odd sculpture of sorts. I continued walking toward my destination, but even after I could no longer see him nudging his cart forward, I thought about that man. I wonder if he ever grows weary of juggling his heaping load. Does he ever consider just leaving it behind?
I do not have to manage a grocery cart full of belongings throughout my day, but I certainly feel like I am often precariously balancing relationships, responsibilities, and expectations. I have lists to check off, friends to check in with, and phone calls to make. And that doesn't include the numerous responsibilities of work. Oh, and the future! There is always something to worry about. More and more gets piled on, to the point where I have to pull out my bungie cords and start tying things down just to keep everything together. What about you? Does your cart feel like it is going to topple over at any moment? Can you see the people in front of you, or are you hidden behind a mound of responsibilities and expectations?
Today I am sipping tea and snuggling a fussy babe. She won't be put down, and she is reminding me that sometimes it is okay to ditch the cart so you can see your people. It's okay to leave the load of laundry in the basket overnight. After all, wrinkles never killed anyone. It's okay to leave that item on your to-do list another day so that you can sit across the table from someone you love without being interrupted. It's okay to take a night off, to read your kiddo a bedtime story or rediscover a book sitting on your nightstand. You don't need an excuse to park your cart and just breathe for a couple minutes.
In fact, my weary friend, there is much to be missed hiding behind that grocery cart sculpture of responsibilities you are pushing around. Let's just agree to park our carts for a bit this week so we can pay attention to our hearts and the hearts of those around us.
Monday, October 8, 2018
Thoughts on Wilting Plants and Friendships that Die
It had been a slow fade. There was no heated argument, no obvious transgression that separated us. We went from spending hours upon hours together every week, to talking on the phone only every once in a while. Soon our communication dwindled to nothing, and our friendship started to remind me of the potted succulent wilting on my windowsill. Admittedly, I have never been very proficient at growing plants. But it seemed like no matter how frequently I watered the little sprout or strategically positioned it to receive more sunlight, it continued to wither. Eventually it just shriveled up and died.
Friendship can be complicated. As someone who cares about people deeply, I don't easily adjust to relational change. If I had it my way, friendships would never change. I would have a window line-up of the same potted plants and they would for SURE never die. But relationships don't work that way, do they? Because people change, and I change, and sometimes what I need or desire even changes. Sometimes I need to be transplanted to a new pot because I am growing beyond the bounds of what my current environment can support. Sometimes I need more sunlight, or less water, or a different kind of soil. Sometimes change—even relational change—is not only good but necessary.
That plant-less pot of dirt still sits on my bookshelf, a reminder that sometimes I need to just let go. Nothing will diminish the joy that little succulent brought to my space and life, though...even for just a short season. In the same way, that friendship was everything I needed for a brief time in my life. We got to sit together on the windowsill of life for a few short months, encouraging each other to grow and drink deeply of the water being offered to us. I've since been transplanted to a new pot, she to a different windowsill, but I will never forget those months we had together and the ways in which she fertilized my soul. I am a stronger and more compassionate woman because she was in my life. For that I am forever grateful, even if we never sit on the same windowsill again.
Friendship can be complicated. As someone who cares about people deeply, I don't easily adjust to relational change. If I had it my way, friendships would never change. I would have a window line-up of the same potted plants and they would for SURE never die. But relationships don't work that way, do they? Because people change, and I change, and sometimes what I need or desire even changes. Sometimes I need to be transplanted to a new pot because I am growing beyond the bounds of what my current environment can support. Sometimes I need more sunlight, or less water, or a different kind of soil. Sometimes change—even relational change—is not only good but necessary.
That plant-less pot of dirt still sits on my bookshelf, a reminder that sometimes I need to just let go. Nothing will diminish the joy that little succulent brought to my space and life, though...even for just a short season. In the same way, that friendship was everything I needed for a brief time in my life. We got to sit together on the windowsill of life for a few short months, encouraging each other to grow and drink deeply of the water being offered to us. I've since been transplanted to a new pot, she to a different windowsill, but I will never forget those months we had together and the ways in which she fertilized my soul. I am a stronger and more compassionate woman because she was in my life. For that I am forever grateful, even if we never sit on the same windowsill again.
Friday, October 5, 2018
Can you and I discover the magic of childhood again this weekend?
Oaknoll: My childhood wonderland |
When I was a little girl, my world was small...but it felt expansive and free. My siblings and I would play tag, kickball, and make-believe for hours on end. I didn't need an Instagram-worthy photo to curate the moment; my living and breathing it was enough. As I have gotten older, my world has grown more expansive but has felt progressively less free. There are bills to pay, errands to run, friends and family across the country to keep up with, and an anxiety-inducing future to consider.
What if we learned to return to the magic of childhood every once in a while, though?
What if we could set aside the trappings of adulthood for a weekend and explore our expansive world like that little girl inside?
What if I set aside my phone and really lived, even if just for a day or two?
Next to one of Oaknoll's perimeter fences, we had a wooden play fort that became my make-believe house on some days and my holdout in battle on other days. There was a slide from the second story to the ground, and I remember playing "table hockey" with walnuts on that slanted board. The creativity of childhood is unparalleled, isn't it?! When I think about the hours and hours of imagination and dreaming that took place in that corner of the world, I can think of no other time in life when my creativity has carried me so far.
But what if we could access that depth of inventiveness and unfettered conception again, here and now?
Unfortunately, I can't run around Oaknoll this weekend. I am thousands of miles away, and the trappings of adulthood prevent me from hopping on a plane and returning without extensive prior planning. But I am surrounded by mountains, trees that are slowly starting to shift color palettes, and lakes that dazzle in the sun. My world is far more expansive these days; what if, just for the weekend, I chose to access the freedom of my childhood as well?
What was your magical place as a child?
What can you do this weekend to recreate that enchantment?
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