Those kind of moments, or "Thank you, Shauna"

Last night Shauna Niequist spoke at our church. For those who don't know her, she is an amazing woman who writes about the miracle that is in daily, "ordinary" life. She speaks about how Christ-likeness doesn't often happen in grand gestures or momentous occasions, though it can, but rather in regular old day in day out moments. Patience. Kindness. Generosity. Hugs. Warmth. Food. Fun. Depth. Friendship. Conversation. Prayer. Worship. Celebration. Mourning. Love.

Shauna herself will say that she has spent, and can continue to spend, her life "waiting" for "BIG moments" and events that are earth shattering and life changing, that when they happen then her life will truly begin.

While I do not believe those moments happen--our lives are our lives, whether or not we choose to live them--I do believe I had a grand moment this weekend. In fact, a series of grand moments that will, in time, set this particular weekend apart.

And I was not expecting them.

This weekend came after what I could call the "beginning of chaos." Our December calendar is booked, with good things, but overly full for an introvert like me who desperately needs sleep and rest to function, let alone to be loving and warm in a season that ought to be marked by love and warmth as we remember Christ's birth. (And instead of sleeping, is currently writing a blog post while Brendan studies for his final. The desk is in our room and he needs light, and light keeps me up so... blogging.)

So, with a FULL weekend, I went to church Sunday morning. And, a moment happened.

Shauna was speaking about names--how God renames people in the Bible all the time, how He changes their story from the one they were telling, or others were telling about them, to His story. He gives them a new name to represent the change being with Him brings. Five minutes in, I was bawling. Teary eyed, snotty. Why? Because I knew the name God wanted to give me. It was the same one He tried to give me a year ago--to no avail. It is the same one He reminds me of every quiet time and I deny that it is me. It is the one I tried to adorn as a ten year old when my dad left for the first time. It is the one I tried to adorn as a fourteen year old who desperately wanted to forgive him. It is the one I wanted when I left pre-med for Classics, unsure of what my future would hold. It is the one I strive for in my marriage, with my family and our relationships, in my friendships, my job, my community, my future, our world.

HOPE. hope. Hope.

I dream, I long, I wish, I strive, I seek, I work, I pray, I do, I reflect, I grow... but hope?

It has been long since I have had the strength and courage... or perhaps faith... to hope.

But hope I did. Throughout her talk, which was probably super amazing based on the bits I caught, I felt God burning in me all the ways I hope but am afraid to hope. And He my fears relieved.

Good timing, because another moment was just around the corner.

I've been angsty about relationships, friendships in particular, all my life. And I go through good seasons and bad ones. I have been, still am?, in a bit of a rough patch. But, two dear friends met with me after church because I wanted to reconcile some things. I had noticed a gap being built between us by myself, my insecurities, by wrongs done (which are, so often, miscommunications or misunderstandings). And, as we met together, I felt the fear that they didn't want to be there or fear that they didn't care weigh me down... until I remembered to hope. I had hope for our friendship because they were there, however tired from their own business and full lives they may be. I had hope because they made the time to be reconciled. I had hope because we have talked about hurts and pain and conflict before and it always worked out--and we are better friends because of it. I had hope because these women are my sisters, whom I love and who love me.

We reconciled. And I had another name given to me by them:

Loved. Chosen. Wanted.

So often I doubt that I am those things. My husband, he desperately tries to convince me and while he often succeeds, he alone cannot convince me of these names. Why? Because these are names from God Himself. He alone can deem a being LOVED. CHOSEN. WANTED. By my mere existence He shows me I am these things. A creator God would not create something He hated. My Heavenly Father would not give power and authority to one who was not chosen. My Friend would not have died for one He did not want. And in my brokenness, in the midst of all my fears and doubts about being these things, about bearing these names, my friends reminded me that I am unconditionally loved. That I do not need to earn their friendship. And that was a moment I want to, need to, remember.

And then it was a whirl wind until yet another Shauna event: an evening with her as the author, with readings, stories, and a Q&A.

Listening to her talk about writing and art and creating stirred in both me and Brendan a renewed desire to create. (Oh, she also touched on friendship, and in tears I was thankful for my dear friends and felt as though I was doing exactly what she was talking about, and in my need for "words of affirmation" God whispered "well done" to me and my friends for living life together, for daring to figure it out complete with conflict, messiness, pain...but ultimately love, grace, and companionship.)

In her sharing and reading, I was reminded:

I am a writer.

I love writing. I get absorbed into it, into telling good stories with good characters. I love creating my own worlds, I have been since I was three. As long as I can remember, I had a new character to be, a new adventure to go on, a new world to explore. From super heroes to magic to ranch hands to spies to anything and everything, I had a story to tell.

So here I am, blogging away. As a good Intervarsity alum, application: check!

Which brings me to tonight, the final "moment" of the weekend that I want seared into my brain, so here it is on paper, well, sort of; in text at least.

My mommy, aunt, sister and grandma were able to attend our Women's Christmas Dinner. They drove up from San Diego, and I was SO BLESSED to have them here! I loved getting to spend time with them, show them off to my community (and visa versa) and be together. While we didn't win a raffle prize, totally open for a gifted 90 minute massage or tea party for eight by the way, we did get to enjoy delicious food, music, fellowship, photo shenanigans, and more Shauna!

To sum up what she shared would take forever. The gist, for me, is this: we are often ashamed of ourselves, our bodies or our homes, when God cares far more about how we live and love others. Instead of worrying about what to cook or how much we need to clean, why don't we simply invite others into our lives? The literal and figurative messiness, to share a meal. Simple yet profound. Jesus did not travel ready to throw a grand feast. He compared the Kingdom of God to a great banquet, and we can all long for that, but His day to day was a lot more fishes and loaves than steak dinners and fine wines. And I am pretty sure anything you or I or my neighbor down the hall can make is better (I know, I've smelt it) because guess what? We have this thing called seasonings. But the point isn't how you flavor something... it is that you invite others to experience your love and hospitality and life because that is what Jesus does.

Christmas is a reminder that God became flesh, and came to earth. God became like us, and moved into our neighborhood. So, why not be part of your own? Grab a friend and invite your neighbors to dinner. Don't mind the messiness of your house or the simplicity of your meal, but share your life and jump into theirs.

And why did this message of being "present over perfect" seem like such a grand moment? Because I shared it with so many women in my life. Not only my community in Long Beach -- some of my dearest friends -- but also my family.

And now, I hope (there it is again!) that we can hold into that together. That we can continue to invite one another into our lives, and that we can invite ourselves into the lives of those around us. Jesus walked among us, will we not walk amongst ourselves?

I want us to remember tonight, to remember the ideas it sparked, however simple, that will enable us to be Jesus' hands and feet to those around us every day: in the simple, the mundane, the ordinary.

I am excited to continue to adorn my new names, to grow in my friendships, to create works of art, and to invite others to the banquet table, even if it is just a warm bowl of soup in this "cold" weather.

Thanks for reading. Hoping to keep up the posting.

A Light in the Darkness

My Aunt Sassy (Sandy) gave me permission to share a little bit of her story. So, here goes!

...

Sassy's son, my cousin, Shane is an AMAZING drummer in a melodic hardcore band (think metal but not exactly). My aunt, being a loving and caring mother, goes to his concerts to support him and his friends. However, these venues began to negatively affect her: it is a dark scene with lyrics that suggest things that go against her faith, kids who seem rebellious (note, "seem"), and overall the scene carries a "demonic" tone.*

*This is not my opinion on the music nor hers, but more the general experience she and others like her have had in this particular environment.

She was getting tired of the dark environment, and was about to leave her last ever concert when she heard God: "as audibly and as clearly as I ever have before" she says. What did God say to her?

"You are exactly where you are supposed to be."

Instantly my aunt realized that where does the Light of the world belong? In the darkness. For her, this means the bleak concert rooms with kids who feel misunderstood or betrayed by the adults in their life, perhaps even feel abandoned by God or are apathetic about faith and anti-religion. Kids who drink and do drugs because they have nothing else. Kids who, in my aunts own words, are going through what she went through.

Sassy isn't looking to go in and convert a bunch of kids, dragging them along to her church's youth group (where she also has been volunteering for a number of years). Instead, she wants to continue to go and spend her time praying for these youth. She is not going to passively stand around and hope for change, though. She also plans to make herself available to be used by God.*

*Prayer itself is not passive. However, if we do not connect our heart to God's will in our times of prayer, and simply ask for things, we may never see how God intends to use us to be the answer to our prayers. Prayer, as I understand it in scripture, often reveals to us God's desires.

One way she has recently obeyed God's call to love these kids is by allowing one of Shane's friends and bandmates to live with her. She is a single mom who lives in a modest home, yet when she found out he was living in his car, she immediately told her son to bring his friend to the house immediately. And this act of love has broken Sassy's heart even more for these kids (who, actually, are probably only a year or two younger than me.)

Sassy is remaining open to how God would use her. Given I have some experience with this age range, I suggested a pizza/movie night at her home after a concert.

How can you help??
1) Pray for Sandy and Shane as they love these youth, lights in the darkness.
2) Pray for partners to come along with Sandy, other Christians who want to show God's love and let their hearts be broken for this scene
3) Donate a couple bucks to help Sandy throw a pizza party. If you are interested, comment here and I will connect with you on where you can send money.

My dream is that this blog will be a resource to share stories--both to encourage, to support through prayer, and to network amongst individuals, connecting them in a way that allows each to better serve the Lord and further God's Kingdom purposes here on earth.

If you have a story you wish to share, I would love to hear it! Again, connect with me through this post and we will make it happen!

I am a dumb sheep, but I have a flock to partner with me.

A Humble Pie

Simple. Sam is an amazing baker. A lovely woman at our church gave her a bunch of lemons. So what does Sam do? Make lemon meringue pie of course! Did I mention this was during lent, when Sam had given up sweets?

 Sam took the pie and delivered slices of it to friends all over Long Beach. And I must say, you would consider yourself blessed to receive anything baked by Sam. She returned home, with some leftovers, and saw her neighbors were out and about. She decided to give them the pie. (These were neighbors she had wanted to meet for a while, but hadn't found the time). It opened up the opportunity to be introduced and talk a bit before returning home.

 ...

 Brendan and I bought a pie at a dessert auction, donating the money to Franklin Classical Middle School (low income, inner city, adopted and loved by LBCF). We invited a crew of people over to enjoy the blackberry pie with vanilla ice cream. It was delightful, but since we stuffed out faces with chili beforehand, even the seven of us couldn't finish it.

We also have neighbors we've wanted to get to know better. As our friends left our house, Brendan and I remembered what Sam had done with her pie and brought half the pie downstairs. Cliff and his wife, Ordie, were overjoyed (Blackberry is his fave). They said we should come over for dinner, and we intend to follow up on that as soon as possible.

 ...

 Simple. Fun. Tasty. Who can you gather together around a delicious pie*? Who in your life could use a pie*?

*Note: does not actually have to be pie.