Home and Family

Hey, Can We Get Some Peace Over Here?

1My brain hurts after weeks of the incessant badgering by both sides of the cultural debate going on in our country. Most of the dialogue I ignored. Especially from my more outspoken friends and followers on social media.

I don’t have answers. And I’m tired of trying to win arguments. Now, what bothers me, is probably not what you think.

I have a large family. And within that family we all share a broad range of views on every subject. And that’s always been the case. And none of the incessant streams of pro’s and con’s on facebook has ever changed any of our minds. But we’re still family, and I love the whole bunch.

But, to me, what has changed most in our country is the intolerant divide that seems to be growing between good people who simply believe different things.

I’ve spent years working under many different types of leadership. And the leaders who stand out the most are the ones who were able to unite a diverse group of people for a common goal.

I was privileged to work under African Americans who, to my amazement, garnered the respect of the most ardent racists on their teams. I also worked under women, who blew me away with their ability to get male chauvinist pigs on board with their ideas.

One of the greatest accomplishments of our great nation has been its ability to unite its people. And great leadership pulls that off in a way that makes everyone feel as though they gain something in the process.

No group of people is ever right all the time. And I understand debate is necessary in order to get all views on the table. But the goal must always be to find the best solution that keeps the people united. And when the unity begins to dissolve, great leadership adjusts and pulls everyone back together.

So this 4th of July, my prayer is for God to rise up leadership devoted to unity. Who will put aside their desire to win the argument, in favor of building a team. Who’s passion will be to settle us down, and give us some peace.

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I Did Not!

LightI can hear Tim like it was yesterday. I’d no sooner come through the door after a long days work, and he’d start,

“You did it again Ellen. I came home and you’d left every light on. The house was lit up like a Christmas tree.”

Always convinced he was wrong, my defenses went up. I’d shake my head and walk away. I didn’t leave one single light on, much less all of them.

Surely, Tim exaggerated. Never once did I consider he might be right.

Well, I’m ashamed to admit that he was. After he was gone, I couldn’t believe how many lights I left on. Night after night, for the past three years, if I’d turned it on in the morning, more than likely, it was still on when I came home.

Even after making a concerted effort, I’d still come home to a hall or bathroom light glaring me in the face.

I just couldn’t believe how, for years, my own denial kept me from changing my ways.

We all have those blind spots. And I’d venture to guess, just like Tim with me, someone has been telling you all about yours.

But it’s easy to just walk away. To think our accuser is misguided, or has ulterior motives. Or perhaps we cling to the old, get the log out of your own eye… routine.

Wouldn’t we all be better off if we listened to some of those who know us best? What if we began to value the wisdom they hold about our lives? What if we considered it a treasure to learn where we need to grow?

So I’d like to know, what have your loved ones been telling you about you? Are you leaving a few lights on? What can you not see that they can?

We Were Her Monsters

She told me the story years ago. And to the best of my recollection it went something like this:

IMG_2779She was young, and very much in love. It led to an engagement that eventually fell apart. And in despair, she thought her life was over. Until she heard the gentle whisper of God. He asked her to give Him her life, so she did.

Against her parent’s wishes, she left the security of their Texas home, and started seminary miles away in San Francisco. “If I were catholic,” she told me, “I’d have become a nun.”

Having given up on love, she was surprised to find it there when she fell head over heels for my Uncle Eugene. They married in a small ceremony in August of 1950.

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Aunt Jeanne Marie & Uncle Eugene on their wedding day

They graduated and the young couple, not yet fluent in Spanish, left to serve the people of a country village in Venezuela.

In those early years, she longed for nothing more than to have a baby. Month after month led to disappointment. One day, she thought her dream had finally come true. And desiring not to disturb nature, she sat still and busied herself sewing a quilt. Something to cover her future infant. When the sun set, her blanket was done.

But by morning her dream was shattered. A doctor told her it would never happen. Her body didn’t seem to have what it took to carry a child.

She could no longer bear to look at that quilt. So she sold it at a bazaar to raise funds for the village church her husband pastored.

A little old lady bought it as her burial cloth. She called it her, colcha de un día, her quilt of a day. And she cherished it until it fulfilled its purpose.

Aunt Jeanne Marie would never have a baby of her own. But that would not stop her from mothering. And to me and my five brother’s and sisters, she’s as much our mother, as the one who gave us birth.

You see, she came one May in the midst of our violent storm. I was ten that day.

Years later, I tried to get her to admit we were monsters. But she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. I chided her, “Come on Aunt Jeanne Marie, we were out of control.”

Final63c64-2802_1142623879990_1291601_nly she sighed, “Alright Ellen, you were monsters, but you were MY monsters.”

Over the years, I’ve often thought of that quilt. I’ve imagined my aunt meticulously sewing its seams. I’ve imagined her hope, and I’ve imagined her brokenness.

To this day she insists loving us filled that void. That she’s never looked back and wondered, what if?

So this Mother’s Day, I will raise my glass to my other mother, the one I proudly call, my Aunt Jeanne Marie. So indulge me as I honor this woman who taught me how to love. Because that love saw past the monster in me, and it embraced my potential. And it powerfully nudged me along, all the way to adulthood.

Now you tell me, where can you find a better Mother than that??

He was Always There

I was ten, but I saw everything she did. How she took care of my four siblings and me. How she turned back my mother’s bed at night. How she cleaned our tiny home. She didn’t have to do it; after all we were her nieces and nephews. My Mother, her devoted sister. But at the moment she heard of my father’s death, she came.How to get Mojo

For days I’d watched her every move, waiting for the perfect time to tell her how I felt. Then one night after she’d tucked us in, I got my chance.

After leaning into our bunk beds and kissing us good night, she touched the foot of our beds and said,

“God, put angels on their bedposts.”

Lying on my stomach I rested my chin in the palms of my hands and watched my Aunt Jeanne Marie shut off our bedroom light. Then she turned in the doorway and said goodnight. Long streams from the hall light fell around her and the raglan sleeves of her robe flowed when she moved. She looked angelic.

Overcome with emotion, my mind searched for something to say. I longed to tell her that I knew how much she loved us.

Finally I blurted out, “I got it Aunt Jeanne Marie. You’re our fairy godmother.”

She laughed softly and said, “Good night darlings.”

Then she turned off the hall light and I listened to her gentle footsteps fade away as she walked down the stairs.

In the dark, I rolled over on my back and tucked my hands underneath my head. I stretched out my legs and crossed my ankles and stared up at the ceiling.

Yeah, that’s it. She’s our fairy godmother. Just for me and my brothers and sisters.

I didn’t really believe there were angels on my bedpost. But, Aunt Jeanne Marie was real. And she was there and she belonged to us. I didn’t have to wonder if she loved me. I just knew she did. IHow to get Mojo didn’t have to wonder if she’d take care of us. I just knew she would.

Sometimes we must grow up before we realize, that from the beginning, God was orchestrating our lives. That in this crazy mess of a fallen world, brokenness invades, but God delivers.

I don’t think it’s by chance, who shows up or when they arrive. I now think it’s all part of His master plan.

A Feast to Remember

IMG_4094We all came, some new friends and some old. We gathered at the table and we broke the bread and drank the wine. All to celebrate fourteen years of a rebuilt life.

And as the stories were told, we remembered.

He was a boy then, and now he’s a man. And he never wants to forget what almost cost him his life. The foolishness that lead to the arrest, the imprisonment, and the walk to freedom.

But most of all, on this anniversary of his release, he remembers the people who helped pull him from that pit.IMG_4093

So that night, Tommy, his youth pastor and friend asked,

“Daniel, do you remember the first time I saw you at the jail? You were on the other side of that glass, and we were talking on that phone. And I said, ‘How did you get there and I get here?’ Do you remember what you said?”

He didn’t even pause, “I told you I stopped listening to the people I respected.”

And for over an hour we feasted at that table, and we shared our stories. And we became full on the evidence of Gods greatest miracle.

IMG_4092The restoration of a man’s soul.

Over two thousand years ago, twelve men gathered around a table. And as He broke the bread, and He poured the wine, He told them to remember.

To daily remind themselves how His body broke, and His blood poured out.

And how their souls will always need nourishment as much as their bodies. And without Him, they’ll never be full.

This Easter, I challenge you to prepare a feast. To invite all those you love to the table. Gather them around and break the bread, and pour the wine.

And let the conversation flow. And as you do, remember all the ways He has restored your soul.

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