God the Good Guy

I did not know who or what "tebowing" was until this afternoon while driving with my husband on the toll road. As we listened to the Texans game on AM radio, he mentioned something about Tim Tebow, but I could not really comment because I had no idea who the guy was.  I did know I've heard this name several times over the past two weeks and I shared that with him.  He enlightened me "good guy, strong faith, people love him or hate him" and so for more details, I consulted my all-knowing source, Wikipedia, to fill in the blanks.  Somehow when we drive, we always end up on the road together this way- him driving and me reading articles from Wikipedia aloud.

So after a brief intermission, I now know all I need to know about tebowing.  And it really is nothing new; there really is nothing new under the sun, as Ecclesiastes states so perfectly.  Folks kneel and pray or kneel and acknowledge God all the time, and have done this both publicly and privately, for century upon century.  Maybe its controversial because he's doing it during Monday Night Football, or perhaps because he's a young kid, or maybe its the whole pro-life stance he's taken on the television.  I don't know the answer to why he is so infamous for his faith, since the Christians I know all "tebow" from time to time.  Even more so, I don't understand why he is so polarizing.  But I do know that the situation he is in makes his faith very bold - he really puts it out there, in a silent but deafening sort of way.

So, fast forward to tonight as we were getting our son ready to head towards bed, he was expending his final burst of energy for the night, when he suddenly started yelling "I love you God", but in the long, drawn out way, so it actually sounded a bit more like this: "I lovvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvve yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyouuuuuu Goddddddddd"!  He struck me like Tebow must strike others - putting it out there. Loud. Bold.

How is it that my three year old son fully trusts in, fully believes in and fully loves God?  He needs no treatment of Christian apologetics, no discourse on faith and hope to arrive at his conclusions.  He just knows.

He sees God for what He truly is - the Good Guy, the Super Hero, the Artist of Trees and Flowers, and the Creator of Chocolate Chip Cookies. Okay, the last one I haven't corrected yet... chocolate is heavenly, right?

Maybe its easier for my son, since his life is so much simpler than mine. He's not skeptical, his heart has not yet been broken, and grief is (God-willing) light years away for him.  My son is "all in" in every present moment.  He wears no mask or facade, as his heart and mind are not clouded by the wordly worries that pester me daily.

Sincerity, openness, earnestness.  These are the qualities of my kid.  Maybe God prefers the kids to the adults?  When I think about it in this way, I think I might, too.

Perhaps this was what Jesus was talking about when he said "I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven." 


I hope and pray that I continue to raise a boy who can hear God in all of the beauty of this world yelling right back to him, "I love you, too".



These commandments that I give you today are to be on your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates. - Deuteronomy 6:6-9

Santa is Not a Man

Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend. Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today, and creates a vision for tomorrow.

 - Melody Beattie

Thanksgiving... Christmas...  They're here!  We, of course, know this holiday season very well.  But our little ones likely don't understand much beyond the fun of wearing pilgrim hats at school, or the beauty of stringing Christmas lights.  This became very apparent to me when my child told me that Santa Claus was not a man, but a "gift-giver".  And I thought, well where in the heck did he get that?  We haven't even talked about Santa Claus yet!  But now I have to, because for me, the holidays are SO MUCH MORE than the man in the red suit and gift-giving and receiving!  So, I've been pondering ways I might share the value and meaning of the holiday season and its traditions to my son, and when it comes down to it the lessons I really want him to get - are charity and gratitude.  

The first lesson on charity is coming right now for my (newly) 3 year old son, as sharing his toys (or not!)  This reminds me - charity really does begin at home!  Being in preschool and playing with the neighborhood kids are great ways for us to expose our kiddos and teach them the basics of giving and generosity.  We can also teach our kids through our own behaviors, charitable giving and selfless action.  Asking our kids to help us with tasks like baking cookies for our neighbor or gathering food to donate to the neighborhood food pantry shows our kids that they can be helpful to others. 

We can also teach that charity is not just about giving money or giving things, but also about giving of self.  By taking our kids along as we help others, we demonstrate to them that we are all responsible for the well-being of our community.  From small actions like helping the widow down the street set up her Christmas tree, to inviting a new neighbor and her kids over to share hot chocolate during playtime, or even buying a toy to give to a child that otherwise would not receive a toy... We can cultivate a gratitude habit by little things: talking over dinner about what we're thankful for, being lavish with our "thanks" to everyone we encounter (including the kids!), helping our kids write (or scribble) thank you notes to gift-givers, or by volunteering together.  Because their little eyes that are always watching us, action can be a wonderful way to teach charity and gratitude.  And we can impact their lives for good by teaching them to see gratefulness in the smallest of things and to act charitably to those around them.

So reach out and touch someone this holiday – and help your child grow as a giving member of the community at the same time.

O my God, I love Thee above all things, with my whole heart and soul, because Thou art all good and worthy of love.  I love my neighbor as myself for the love of Thee.  I forgive all who have injured me, and ask pardon of all whom I have injured. Amen.

Sharon Lee

Sharon was many things to many people.  Called just about everything a good person could be called.  She was unique and vibrant.  She had an easy, simple way about her.  She was easy to love.

To me, she was Mom.

Faithful and quick to smile and endearing. Loyal but could make you think hard when you needed to.  Full of compassion.  Governed by a deep well of intuition.  Generous beyond measure.  Her eyes smiled.

A counselor by schooling, profession and salary.  A profession that did not shut off at 5 o'clock.  Her empathy for those in the struggle, in the midst, in the shadows bled from every ounce of her being.

Always quick to listen or encourage.  The kind of person that would not just lend a hand, but give the shirt off her back if she thought it would help.  Given the exceptional ability to help people make their lives work better.  Striving to do what was right, especially when it wasn’t easy.

Married to my dad, Dr. William Gould, for 29 years.  In 1999 they were busy planning the party which would celebrate their 30^th anniversary together.  Mom was devoted to Dad in every sense of the word. And Dad was always grateful for her love and her free-spiritedness.  After their wedding in March 1970, mom was tested almost immediately as my father became critically ill.  He suffered from a life long condition that threatened to take his life at any moment.  When that affliction finally took him, the loss to follow revealed the amazing depth of her goodness and love.  The anniversary party never happened, but mom pressed on.  She stuck around to witness graduations, careers, marriages, homes, and children. She hung around until she knew I got things right before she sounded the all-clear.

Never for a moment have I doubted her love.  Life taught her a lot about loss and, in turn, she was able to teach me a lot about love.  She gave me the freedom to grow and explore, to fail and succeed and to build my life on my own terms.

She did not gently set her feet in the shallows along the water's edge.  She dove down deep into the unknown of the sea. She figured life out, and learned to do the important things today, and not plan and wait for someday in the future.  She knew all too well, that tomorrow does not always come.

She was a character.  She was one of those people that didn’t live just one life…  During the last of her lives, cancer accompanied her every move.  For years it twisted everything I thought to be true about life.  It broke the mold of my understanding about how life should go.  In the end, it couldn't be fixed or stopped or killed.  It won its relentless pursuit.  But it could not have fully realized who it was pursuing.  

This beautiful soul - radical love, spirited hope, simple joy.  I am honored to be called her daughter.  When I made the promise to care for her so many years ago, I could not have known the path that vow would take or how I would be transformed in the process.  Cancer is different the second time around… The first time you play to win, but the second time you play to live long enough to try and die from something else.  My world shrank as the disease became a crucible.  I got a crash course in life and death and the division between the two was blurred.

She continued to inspire me even until God turned to the last page of her story.  I waited and prayed and cried that quiet September evening, and finally came the concluding, irrevocable exhale of her sweet life.  And just like that, she slipped away.  Her hand locked in mine, but her soul free.  Cancer was not the real teacher.  It had always been her.  In her death, she silently taught me that vulnerability was the source of her true strength.

"I had been afraid of the awful presence of the river, which was the soul of the river, but through her I learned that my spirit shared in the spirit of all things" - Bless Me, Ultima

Only a Mother

Only a mother will get this entry.  Here are just a few reasons the other moms of young children totally "get" you.  And many more reasons why it pays to have them as friends to help you (find) and keep your sanity.  You know you're a mom in need of a friend, or perhaps a margarita (or both) when you:

1. are not in any of your own vacation photos.
2. have learned to see past the fingerprints on your television.
3. desperately wish you were that weight that years ago you thought was fat.
4. take 2 to 3 days to watch a 1.5 hour movie, if you finish it at all.
5. have wondered if your baby was secretly sent here by aliens to weaken you and take over your mind.
6. have an 8 a.m. cup of coffee is sitting, half full and cold, on the table at 4 p.m.
7. buy books hoping you will finish them in the next year.
8. look forward to talking to the grocery store cashier or dry cleaning attendant.
9. haven't had an adult conversation in at least three days.
10. think "Me time" now means cleaning the kitchen while dad watches football (and the baby).
11. haven't used your blow dryer since giving birth.
12. have traded your purse for your diaper bag.
13. only watch cartoons and you know all of the character's names.
14. use spit as a cleaning agent.
15. have broken your toe stepping on a stealth lego creation.
16. walk through the kitchen and your feet stick to grape jelly on the floor, and you don't care.
17. can't recall the last time you slept, but you know it's been years.
18. cannot answer your phone without a child screaming like a banshee.
19. pick up your phone to find it caked with applesauce or drool.
20. can fake a sincere-looking smile when your kids are in total meltdown.
21. wonder where the return label is on the package you waited on for nine months.
22. have fallen asleep sitting up.
23. are proud to have at least one clean, slightly wrinkled shirt, with no spit up on the shoulders.
24. can translate the noises that emit from your bundle of joy to your husband.
25. wake up at night with extra people in bed with you.
26. forget the lyrics to every single lullaby and nursery rhyme when trying to calm your baby.
27. have not seen the floor of your car in weeks months.
28. have lost ten pounds because you are trying to feed everyone else and forget yourself.
29. have gained ten pounds because you eat after everyone else.
30. can't recall the last meal you sat down to where you didn't have to cut all the food into little bites.
31. never get to shut your bathroom door.
32. can step over toys, look past dishes and reach over that pile of clean laundry with grace and ease.
33. stop caring about how loud the kids in restaurants are, and you sympathize instead.
34. plan your cocktail hour around your baby's feeding schedule.
35. have locked yourself in a utility room, closet or bathroom to have a moment alone, more than once.
36. do not know the last time that you uttered a sentence with more than three words in it.
37. think that saying "no, no, no!" is going to work better than just saying "no".
38. have stayed in your car/house/bed/rocking chair for hours just to let your kid stay asleep.
39. have gotten in the car and driven for hours in the middle of the night to help your newborn sleep.
40. think a five minute shower is a like a day at the spa.
41. can't find your wallet in your purse because of the toys, pacifiers, wipes and diapers.
42. notice that you lose your cell phone or keys at least once a day.
43. know exactly where to hit "play" when fast-forwarding past the beginning of the BabyEinstein DVD.
44. start working at 9 p.m.
45. wonder why your kid's screaming and cranky, and then remember you didn't feed them anything.

I'd love you hear your own take on this topic, I'm free this Saturday for a margarita girls night!

About Me

I changed the format of this thing, and can't seem to find how to put the "About Me" back on the page.  So here is the About Me section of my blog... Just in case you want to know a little more.

I've moved a lot and lived many places, and currently live in Houston, though I am still not sure where "home" actually is. I've been married eleven years to an amazing man with a heart for God and service who knows that playing small does not serve the world.  I hate alarm clocks and refuse to use them, though my two year old seems to enjoy acting like an alarm clock these days. My friends tell me I have a kind heart. I am a perfectionist, though not usually a procrastinator. I desperately wanted to join the peace corps before starting college at the University of St. Thomas, but my parents vehemently opposed the idea.  I secretly wish I would have done it anyway.  I could never travel too much. I have adopted the gluten-free style of cooking, because I have two celiacs under my roof.  My family - by force and by choice - means the world to me.  I will try almost anything once.

The pastime that keeps me busy most days is real estate. I opened a real estate brokerage eleven years ago and never looked back.  My clients are sometimes crazy, but I love them anyway.  The best part of the whole real estate business is the stories about people and their houses. I absolutely love what I do each day.  And when its all said and done, you'll likely find me chasing sunshine on the island of Isla Mujeres.

As a Christ-follower, I tend to think a lot about what that means and how to do it.  You and I have tons to discuss if you have a heart for missions and ministry.  People who are committed to changing the world for the better set me on fire.  I firmly believe that we can each make a difference to someone every single day.  I love God, though I struggle with Church at times. But not to knock 'em, some of my best friends in the world are pastors.

My dad died unexpectedly when I was 21.  My mom died expectantly when I was 31.  My perspectives on life and living have been dramatically shaped by these two events.

Life on earth isn’t fair, reasonable or rational. It is strange, wild, ridiculous, bizarre, amazing, heartening and sad.  It also is clearly not the place I was made for. I began writing as a way to cope with the death of my mother in 2009.  I never really wrote or enjoyed it before that point in my life, but I appreciate the chance to wrangle with my thoughts and set them down.  My mother, the avid writer, decided she was going to write a book, but she got stopped in all sorts of ways that happen when you want something really incredible to happen in your life.  This blog is my take on life, mission, love and the lighter stuff and an attempt to bring things full circle.

Joy or Fruitcake?

It's already the beginning of November?  I actually am having a hard time identifying exactly what month it is, because the Christmas decorations are already up en masse at the stores by my house.  Did we not just close our doors to the onslaught of little ghosts and goblins begging for candy?

The holiday countdown is already on, and I am absolutely not ready.  I do not know who is hosting Thanksgiving dinner, I forgot to pass out names for our family gift exchange, family plans are confused by my brother's recent estrangement, and I'm not sure where we ended up putting the Christmas ornaments after our move back in May.  A quick search on Google reveals over 269,000 entries for "de-stress your holidays".  When did the holiday season become something to be survived?

We moms have so many plates spinning - tending to the needs of our kids and husband, maintaining our friendships, keeping up with responsibilities at home, work and beyond, while still trying to fit in our goals and keep our health.  Now with the dawn of "everything happy and bright" on its way, I often wonder how to balance even more with already full hands.  Having a young child in our house really turned the tables on us.  We were spoiled with ten years focused mostly on the two of us, but now we struggle with even the simplest tasks on a never-ending list.  I can promise you I never thought I would have been the person to forget to feed my dog or take out the trash!  The drive of wanting to get it all done and be and do all things well, even perfect, can send me speeding ahead on the road of life.  Except the stress of too much to do and not enough time to do it sends me speeding down the wrong road entirely, and I get overwhelmed and disconnected from my joy, my husband, my son, myself.   Except Jesus did not say to us "I came so that you may have life and have it more overwhelmingly".  Instead he promised something much better, he said he came so that we might have abundant life.

And when I can look it squarely in the eye, this truth informs the solution to my problem.  The answer to my deepest need this holiday season will not be met in a well-executed holiday plan.  I do not need the diagram for how to create a fresh and festive holiday centerpiece in 6 easy steps, a fabulous one-day Christmas shopping plan, 3 tips for the best fruitcake recipe or 10 splurge-worthy holiday gifts.  While all of these ideas are wonderfully creative, I know that what ends up happening is piling them on top of my current to-do list only causes more stress, less togetherness; more irritability and less gratitude.  When I work hard to get every detail on the list perfect, I get stressed and impatient.  On top of the negative mood, my focus on the "list" and the "perfect" keeps me from witnessing the magic of the present moment, the beauty of what is happening right here in front of me.  I'm beginning to realize that not only do I not need to research and purchase the best wreath for the season to hang on my front door, I need to learn to close the door instead.


I need to close the door on extraneous social obligations, the commercialism of the holidays, and the need to have everything just perfect.  No one will draw their last breath this year because I stopped baking from scratch, or even stopped baking at all.  In fact, most of you would probably be happy at the thought of less calories around to tempt you.   If I don't buy all variations of Scentsy from a neighbor, attend every Christmas pageant, send a card to each soul I've ever shaken hands with, or wrap a room full of unnecessary gifts - all will not be lost and the earth will still revolve around the sun.  The huge juggernaut that is the holiday season in America will roll right on past without even a second glance at me, and its likely that most people will not even notice that I've done anything different or done anything less.  But I bet my family will notice, because some magical things will start to happen.


For starters, that family day we've been meaning to have.  A tickle war with the two year old. A walk with the dog, who somehow still loves me even when I forget to feed her.  A call to a friend for that long overdue chat.  A day off.  A real conversation with the husband.  A much-needed girls night with the ten year old.  A space to reflect on the year.  A time to cultivate gratitude and to extend grace.  After all, how did Jesus celebrate?  He gave himself to those he loved. He glorified God in the simple act of living.  No amount of checks on my to-do list could provide the abundance found in simple, selfless acts like these.


What if we were to take a step back before the busyness begins?  Breathe, and remember what and who the holidays are really about.  What if we stop spending hours in long retail lines or at holiday parties we don't want to attend, and instead spend time chasing our kids around or hanging out with our husband?  What if we embraced the holy abundance already in our lives instead of looking outward to try and buy or find it?  What if instead of rushing around, we paused to savor the little moments that fill our hearts with joy - a daughter asleep in your arms or a son pleading for one more hug?  I wonder what is coming your way this holiday - joy or fruitcake?  You know, no one ever likes the fruitcake anyway.

"Every time you close another door - be it the door of immediate satisfaction, the door of distracting entertainment, the door of busyness, the door of guilt and worry, or the door of self-rejection - you commit yourself to go deeper into your heart and thus deeper into the heart of God.  This is a movement toward full incarnation.  It leads you to become what you already are - a child of God; it lets you embody more and more the truth of your being; it makes you claim the God within you."


- Henri Nouwen

To Honor the Dead, Live with Courage

Today is November 1st along with a host of other things including, but not limited to, the 305th day of the year, Antiguan Independence Day, All Saints Day and last but not least, the Day of the Dead, or dia de los muertos.   


Growing up in Houston, Texas - where I can easily enjoy a Negro Modelo, enchiladas, tres leches cake, and Jarritos soda all without leaving the corner store in my neighborhood - has made Mexican culture a part of my blood. The dia de los muertos is no exception.  The Day of the Dead is a Mexican holiday and is the day where the spirits are said to walk the earth.  It is a highly ritualized affair, and it exists to honor deceased loved ones in a festive way.


Significant days of the year like today, Holy Thursday, birthdays, anniversaries and death dates always make me pause and reflect on my parents and grandparents who are long dead.  


And talk of remembering the dead is not limited only to these special days.  Even in church last Sunday, the worship leaders decided to once again read aloud a list of names of the people who had died in the past year, separating each name by the ringing of a bell.  The name & bell exercise literally makes me want to jump up and run out of the building like the smoke alarm has sounded, but instead I end up talking myself down from the fence so I don't disturb those around me.  I do sit there the whole time wondering to myself when it will be over, as it can never be soon enough.  I always cry, and I always think about those people that aren't with me anymore, and I don't like it because I dislike crying in public.


Death is not always easy for me to confront - at the time it occurred, or even years later.  It can make me very vulnerable feeling and weak, though usually, I am someone who is very upfront about the whole dying thing - I like to call it what it is "dead", not "passed away" or some other sugar-coated version of reality.


But on a day like today, where celebration wafts through the air, bright colors are everywhere, and the focus is on honor, it has me contemplating my good fortune to be alive and kicking today and what I might do with such a gift.  It also gives me a chance to keep the memory of those people alive and well.  I draw strength from vivid recollections and stories from years past.  And it is in my living, in my hope, and in my courage, that honor is brought to these memories and lives.

Often the test of courage is not to die, but to live.

- Vittorio Alfieri

divine disturbance

Already this morning, I've been disturbed.  Are you disturbed today?

From the issues on the ballot, to last weekend's football games, it seems there are a barrage of things that upset or disturb us.  For you it might be who lost on Dancing with the Stars...  The price of gas... The price of chicken...  Having to change all your clocks for daylight savings...  I'm sure you won't have to think long before you remember the last time you were upset.

While on my run, as my feet shift my thoughts often drift and this morning I realized that today is the first of November.  So then I started thinking about the missions emphasis at the church - which happens during the month of November.  And the whole missions emphasis is really just a virus that attacks and explodes into all kinds of upsetting things.  The failure rate of elementary kids at Shearn, a school about a mile from my house.  The line of people that wraps around the nearby food pantry during the week, where the same people keep coming back, and standing in line for a handout week after week,year after year, because the cycle of poverty has yet to be broken.  The 27 million victims of sex trade enslavement, many of these victims living right under my nose in Southwest Houston.  The 143 million children in the world who tonight, will go to sleep without a mom or dad to tuck them in.

When I start to consider things outside of myself and my life, it is easy to run head-on into a deep need that is failing to be met.  I wonder, too, what you see.  And I wonder what you are upset about?  What need in our world has your heart broken?  What injustice keeps you up at night?  What suffering person or situation drops you to your knees in prayer?  Where are you willing to be disturbed so radically that you can't stand it another second?  

As His disciples, Jesus asks us to follow Him by loving the unlovable, helping the marginalized, and giving to the least of these.  In the remaining hours of today and beyond today, where will you allow God to shake up your comfortable world on behalf of those most in need, whether they live around the world or around the corner?

Often times, our "first world" answer to upsetting scenes and troubled people is to give money.  And don't get me wrong… Money is a good thing, it does a lot of good and it is good to give it away.  Speaking of giving away money, I want to encourage you to learn more about the Advent Conspiracy before you head out with your Christmas shopping list - there's pretty amazing stuff happening there. But I want to encourage you - don't just give of your money.  Give of yourself & your time.  To the poor, sick, hurting, lonely and hungry.

I was talking to a church member recently. I won’t use his name out of respect to him, so I’ll just call him My Husband…. Anyway, he started mentoring a 9 year old boy at Shearn Elementary, where the majority of the students live at or below poverty level.  His third week rolled around to go and sit with the child for 30 minutes, and it almost didn’t happen.  See, he just had too much on his plate – school, a family, the daily stresses of life.  He was just really out of his comfort zone with this whole mentoring thing.  Why did he even sign up?  Who was he to try and be a mentor?  As he sat in his car and debated about going into the school, he finally climbed out of his car and walked inside.  The child met his mentor with concern when he shared “I thought you weren’t coming today.  Just a few minutes ago, the door opened and I thought it was you, but then it was just some lady here for something else” with sadness.  In that instant, the mentor realized the power of simply coming through that classroom door – a presence to that child that says “I care about you and I’m here for you”.  The mentor shared that he didn’t think those 30 minutes a week could make a difference, but imagine if he had opted not to get out of his car and head towards that classroom door on Wednesday? 

We can all make a difference, every day.  Every act and every little moment that we share ourselves to build up others glorifies God.  Our God, the invisible God, who is a concept foreign to so many, is made visible in these acts.  Jesus did not ask us to walk with him when convenient, he commanded us to go the second mile (even when we were FORCED to walk the first mile)!  He called us to radically serve, and radical meets service at the intersection where we find our hearts broken and our lives disturbed. As Harold Whitman once wrote, "don't ask yourself what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive, and then go do that.  Because what the world needs is people who have come alive".

Tea and cookies are good

I read a post today that a pastor friend of mine posted on Facebook.  The article was titled "Why We Don't Need Women's Ministry".  Now, this pastor friend of mine happens to be a man, so I wondered about his choice of article, dealing with women and all.  We also happen to have a Women's Ministry at our church, so I was curious also, and I took the time to visit the link.  You can read the full article here.


According to the author, it seems women's ministry is all tea, and pastels, and flowers and interior decorating, and hats and needlepoint.  And in the author's eyes, nothing else.  Of course, as people are apt to do, a fellow church member replied to said pastor's posting, saying in essence: yeah, I don't like to go to those garden parties where all the women look good, all the flowers are in bloom, and they pass their time idly by, wearing cute hats and sipping earl grey from their Spode tea cups.


Well, don't think for a minute that I'm against her, because let me make it very clear that donning a hat to an afternoon women's tea party is not on my bucket list (at least not yet).  It's just not me, and it's not something I would ever be comfortable doing.


Not that there's anything wrong with tea and flowers and hats... These are all just expressions of one's personal tastes, after all.  If Women's Ministry at my church meant margaritas and live music and tattered blue jeans, I'd probably be a staunch supporter.  And I know from personal experience, with my own little women's group that these meetings and events create a space of grace that allows for sharing life with fellow believers, an experience which has been invaluable to me.  While we don't wear hats or share decorating tips, we do share meals, tragedies, laughter and prayer.  These women are my sisters, and in years of sharing life and breaking bread together, they have embraced and encouraged me, prayed for me and allowed me to live fully, even vulnerably, from the core of my spiritual existence.  We are called to build up our relationships and to be mindful of our spiritual formation.  And true relationship such as this is not even always about guts and glory.  Sometimes relationship is just sitting in silence enjoying some hot tea and a rest from the frantic pace of the world.


But if we stop there, if that is all we do, we sell ourselves short.  I venture to say that we sell Christ short.  Christ didn't walk the earth to reveal to us the eternal truths of God by saying "I came so that you might fellowship with your congregation more abundantly" - though gatherings like these certainly strengthen relationships in our congregations.  Jesus Christ, through a sublime reality we know as Christ crucified, calls us radically out of life as we knew it, turning us and our world upside down, and setting us on a path anew.  Or at least, it should.  My more recent experiences of the Church have shown me less about radical discipleship and more about clinging to doctrine as a basis for excluding folks who don't fit our picture.  I've endured more information about tending to the needs inside a building and less about meeting folks at their actual place of need.  Unless I'm crazy, God is up to something in our world that is eternally bigger than quibbling over worship style or what we should serve at Wednesday supper.  The best part is that he's invited us to be a part of His mission of restoration and reconciliation.


It is up to us to choose to be honest with ourselves, our lives, our church, and the lives of others.  From what depth are we pushing the faith conversation forward, in congregation and in community?  Are we willing to put down our shield of safe Christianity so that we can participate fully and authentically in the redemptive mission of God in our community - person by person - here, now and today?  As research professor Brene Brown puts it "authenticity is a daily practice.  It demands wholehearted living and loving - even when it's hard".  The cool thing about authenticity is that it can show up anywhere - at a floral themed party with tea or in the midst of the overcrowded, poverty-stricken school down the street.


I dare say that authenticity can even show up at the building we visit on Sunday mornings.


What if we looked at our gatherings differently?  We can start by stripping away the requirements for a successful Sunday event - the proper clothes, the club membership seats, the approved music, the ceremony, the mask, the judgment, the pretending to be perfect since we're Christian.  Of all people, we Christians should surely know that it is we who are sinfully imperfect.  What if instead we opened up the floor for some conversation - maybe even considering a few risky and demanding questions?  What do the actions of an unapologetic follower of Christ look like?  What does sharing hope look like in real life - in traffic, the grocery store, the soccer field, the board room, the street corner?  How might we live differently if we embraced church as a verb, and not a noun?  How do we forge a path of authenticity in our community, paved with the Gospel of Grace?


Are we re-enacting scenes from a script in the past, busying ourselves with correct motions but with nothing truly happening, or are we struggling to meet the challenge to go and share the hope of Christ in our community by authentically connecting with others?  I'm up for conversation - with my tea party hat on, if need be.

Don't Settle

If you're like me, there is probably a little voice in your head reminding you from time to time, maybe right now, that you have a calling in this life.  That feeling that your passion and your action ought to be connected somehow, and connected on a regular basis.  Pure, true and deeply felt passion - like something you might have felt years ago, back before paychecks, taxes and commuting took stronghold in your life.


You may have pushed this creeping thought to the back of your mind or the back burner of your life or the C-level priority on your GTD list.  This has probably never happened to you, but I know that I have on occasion, figured that what I really needed to be doing right now, instead of this calling, was putting out fires or exercising more, or catching up on my to-do list or cleaning out the fridge before a grocery trip.  Again, this probably does not describe you at all, but you probably know someone like this, someone that needs to take a hard look at what's important vs. what's urgent.


But maybe, you actually have pushed that burning desire to the bottom of your one-day-some-day-but-not-today list.  And if you have, perhaps it wasn't because you were too busy to roll up your sleeves and get to work.  Maybe the dream is to big, too wild, too audacious, or maybe you just feel like you could never achieve it.  I don't have to tell you this, you already know.  You know what makes your heart skip a beat and makes you come alive.  Its usually the topic you can't stop talking about, or the cause that makes your heart break or the hobby you have that you squeeze in when you get a break from the hustle and bustle of life lived at breakneck speed.  Sometimes we are so successful at pushing the dream or the calling out of our conscious minds, that we haven't had that tug on our hearts since we were kids. (For accurate demonstration of being fully present in the moment and playing full out by embracing life with joy - see photo above).


Some days you doubt the calling and some days you believe the calling.  That is how it is for me.  In fact, usually when I'm closest to examining the bent for service and ministry that God has given me, I get most disrupted.  I often wonder just exactly how I am supposed to live out my calling in the midst of holding down a business, raising a child, organizing my receipts for the IRS and catching up with my husband when things slow down at the end of each day.  I think sometimes it is lack of courage to step outside of the boundaries of my safe, well-defined life.  It is a radical thought to go against the grain of the way things already are - especially when things are seemingly secure.  But, courage, like any other virtue, can only be developed by learning and by practice.  It is not something we are born with naturally, we can only attain it by doing it.  To be a courageous person, I have to get in the habit of living courageously.  

Security is mostly a superstition.  It does not exist in nature,

nor do the children of men as a whole experience it.

Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure.

Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing.

To keep our faces toward change and behave like free spirits

in the presence of fate is strength undefeatable.

-Helen Keller

If you're honest, you likely dream of living a life that is different from the one you've settled for.  You might ask yourself sometimes, as I do, "Is this all there is"?  Is this the life you thought you'd be living into?  I used to live next door to an 83 year old veteran of the US Navy aptly named Roscoe Campbell who had been through and seen just about everything in his difficult life, body overtaken by arthritis, hearing lost to the ravages of old age, wife dead and he living as a boarder in my next door neighbor's home.  As I would struggle to face the glare of the morning sun without my first cup of coffee fully infused in my blood, he would greet me every single morning, bright and chipper, and I would always say "Hey Roscoe, how are you this morning?"  And with a jubilant shout across the dew-covered lawn he would reply "I'm Great!  The Good Lord got me up this morning!  What else could I ask for?"


That is the amazing thing about today. You and I both woke up this morning.  We have another day to build a life we don't want to escape from.  To turn towards a more authentic way of living and relating in our world.  A life that we haven't settled for, but one we've created anew.  We've created... You've created.  Not a life created by the impact of circumstance, situation or position in life.


I challenge you today to embrace the amazing opportunity that today is.  In fact, its all we've got.  One lesson that death teaches, is that it always comes for us.  It is the one thing in life we cannot escape.


If you really want to live before you die, do what you love.  Take stock of what you absolutely love, and do more of those things.  And if there are things in your life that you don't love, well, don't do them.  Figure out a plan to get your soul out from under the entanglement of those things or people or places that suck your life energy out of you.  Stop trading authenticity for security.  Remember, security is just a clever illusion.


When I turned 21, someone I once knew challenged me to stop playing my life safe.  To start making life matter, to make every moment matter.  And to take the plunge and "play full out" with my life.  To play full out - don't hold back, live fully in the present moment, stretch uncomfortably and give relentlessly.  Whether to play or not play the game of life is not your choice to make, but as long as that heart of yours is ticking, you can choose how you will play.  And in the end, the only person who really and truly cares about your life and what you do with it.... Is you...


I am headed to a Missional Living conference today in downtown Houston, and as I get ready to go, I am reminded to stop and listen to that calling that God has placed on my heart.  The calling that asks - Yes or No?  Now or Later?  Ready.... Or not?  Will you serve yourself or Me, today, Susan?  Am I listening?


Are you listening? Are your ears open?  Who is God guiding you to serve?  What is your life passion?  When have you heard the substance of your calling?  Where has injustice in this world stirred your heart?  Why do we wait, thinking that one day, someday, we will make a difference with our life in this world.  Today is the day to make the difference.  What is your calling, and why are you waiting?  Isn't it about time to dust off that spark, rekindle that warmed-over passion, shred the scripted life and start playing big with the God-given life calling that you've carelessly or indiscriminately cast aside?


Every moment is a golden one for him who has the vision to recognize it as such. - Henry Miller

Stage Five

There are a few very specific bits of information you become intimately familiar with when someone you love receives the unfortunate diagnosis of cancer.  How to make milkshakes chock full o' nutrition when they lose their appetite during chemo treatments.  What amount of fever sustained in the midst of treatment should make you jump up and head to the emergency room.  Who to consult about the true meaning of "5-year survival statistics".  And, last but not least, how the cancer is staged.  In summary:

Stage 0 = carcinoma in situ (keep checking in with your doc, but happy you've dodged a bullet.)
Stage 1 = localized cancer to one part of body (damn you are lucky, it's local!  Celebrate with a toast.)
Stage 2 = locally advanced cancer (We can get it all out and you get to keep your body parts!)
Stage 3 = more intense local advancement (Houston, we have a problem.  Bring out the big guns.)
Stage 4 = metastasized (All hell has broken loose. Docs play Russian Roulette for as long as they can.)
Stage 5 = The aftermath (Recovery from cancer staging, PICC lines, Resource Breeze and blood gas tests.)

Ok, so you probably know that Stage 5 does not really exist.  At least, not in the clinical reference manuals of your local oncologist's office.  But Stage 5 seems very fitting for the after-effects of surviving the loss of a loved one to cancer.  There is just SO MUCH going on when you are in the midst of a cancer fighting crisis.  Stage 5 is YOUR recovery, the work to be done once the fighting and the crisis are over.

The extensive work of a very dedicated psychiatrist named Elizabeth Kubler-Ross yielded her book On Death and Dying in 1969.  In this writing, she proposed the now infamous Five Stages of Grief, which are denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance.  More recent studies have explored her stages and some affirm them, though other studies have not determined that there is ever a clear end to grieving.  I am here to tell you that once stage 4 is over, life does not magically go back to normal and coping with loss is not a well-scripted act that you can quickly read through.  Nope.  Instead of the patient doing the work of fighting, the ball has now rolled into your court and its your turn to do the hard work.  Experts in the field call this psychological process of coping with significant loss "grief work", and I can tell you from personal experience not to ignore it.  Neither the passage of time, nor the softening of painful memory heal you after your loved one's death.

After my mom's death, I failed to complete the grieving process for an extended time.  Losing her fragmented my existence, my reality, my hopes and dreams.  There were so many thoughts running through my brain - altogether different and yet simultaneous - wishing she were still here, denying the permanency of her absence, hoping to deal with the terrible feelings and also wishing to avoid all emotions of pain...  The thing was, and still sometimes is, I am terrified of letting go.  Instead of talking about it or dealing with my sadness, I leaned on my Type-A personality to keep full steam ahead, letting the busyness minimize my suffering as much as possible.  But when the raw, agonizing pain finally took hold of my heart, and created night after night of insomnia, I knew I needed to face it.  And very slowly, I did, one tiny step at a time.  Some days I could do nothing and other days the loss did not even cross my mind.  And that's okay.  There is no "right" way to feel or to be.  The most important thing is to acknowledge however you are feeling.  Even two years after her death, and after a healthy dose of acceptance, I still experience moments of frustration, being overwhelmed, and not being able to voice my thoughts clearly.  I no longer sleep lightly, waiting for her to call out in need, but I still suffer from occasional insomnia.  Sometimes in worship, a line from a song will suck every ounce of emotion out of me through tears, and daily I miss her insightful ways and her ability to laugh at herself.  On the other hand, I vividly recall her suffering, and am relieved that though I cannot see, nor hear nor imagine what God has prepared for her, I am confident that she suffers no more.



"If ever there is tomorrow when we're not together... there is something you must always remember. You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem and smarter than you think.  But the most important thing is, even if we're apart... I'll always be with you." - Winnie the Pooh

Blue Shoe

Anne Lamott, in her book Blue Shoe writes this rich dialogue between Harry and his mom:

"Won't you and I die at the exact same time?"  he asked in rising panic.

"No honey.  Where did you hear that?"  

"From Stefan.  He and his mom are dying at the exact same second."

"No they're not, darling.  And besides, I'm 30 years older than you.  So you will probably live much longer."

Harry gaped at her.  He pushed his eggs away.  Then he covered his face with his hands and began to sob, 


"If I had known that," he cried, running back to the window, "I would NEVER have agreed to be born."

Why do I keep thinking it should be any different?

When I was 21, my dad died unexpectedly at 57.  

He had a scheduled operation in Dallas on July 21st, just five days before his 58th birthday.  I really wanted to leave Houston and make the 5 hour trip up to Dallas to be with him and my mom during and after the surgery.  She, however, said she had it all under control, and the room was too small anyway, and it was raining.  My mom is the character basis for the definition of the archetypal hysterical and worrisome mother.  So I sat and waited and just knew something was not right.  

When the phone rang that Wednesday morning in 1999, the words streaming out of the receiver had me crumpled on the floor like a poorly written term paper.  My dad was not doing well after surgery, she said, get here quick.  In a flash, my best friend/roommate was pleading with Continental to secure a ticket for me to fly to Dallas immediately.  Rain be damned!  Why did I listen to her in the first place?  

Rushing around the house like a crazy person to find my missing shoe and my driver's license, the ring of that phone stopped me again, but this time, it was altogether different.  It was a paralyzing, gut-wrenching style of different.  Because I then knew that my father was dead.  My God, how did this happen?  I had no warning, no "last words", no final "inside joke" shared between father and daughter, no hug goodbye.

My mom had watched it all - she, ever-present supporter and champion of my father, was there in the hospital room from the time they arrived that morning to the time he began to have trouble breathing.  Panicked, she hit the call button and a code team rushed in the tiny room, medical equipment and people squeezed into every last inch of real estate, but they were up against a silent killer - a blood clot in the lung.  Within minutes, my dad went from sharing conversation with my mom, to gone.  Pulmonary embolism, the coroner said.  And she was there, my mom, the trooper, to the very end, to the "til death do us part".

And not to be outdone, when I was 31, my mom died very expectedly after years of surviving terminal cancer.  


Her diagnosis came as a shock in early January 2004.  This time, we knew every painstaking detail of the enemy, the damage, the pain, the suffering and the futility of medicine against an invader like stage 4 metastatic cancer.  Well this time, damn it, I was not going to sit idly by, collecting regret upon regret.  Not only did I accompany her every trip to MD Anderson, but I also managed to have her as my housemate, where I could keep a watchful eye to make sure she ate her vegetables and didn't die.  The trouble is that she did die... Right there in front of me on the second floor of Houston Hospice on a quiet and breezy September evening two years ago.

I had every opportunity to talk to her over the five years she fought that beast.  We shared and spoke and reminisced.  We laughed and loved and drank good wine.  She knew the depth of my heart, loved the gracious nature of my husband, held the precious hand of my firstborn.  Mom filled me with stories of our family, anecdotes about her younger life, and enough strength and sureness of self to move a mountain if need be.  And even after all of that, I was still left bewildered and lost in the wake of her passing.  How can you live fully in every single moment and still end up with regret?  The regret, I realized, was not that I failed to do something, but who on earth would not want just one moment more with someone they love?  All of the preparing and knowing and planning, well, those were just things to occupy my anxiety and energy during that wild ride.


Why do I keep thinking it needs to be any different?

I have heard many answers to these two questions over the past thirteen years.  Short answers, long answers, confusing answers.  Life is hard sometimes, and also short sometimes, but care and love and do and serve and breathe and laugh anyway.  Even God suffered the loss of a loved one.   This is not some new concept saved up during all of humanity just for little old me.  Adversity is a committed teacher.  And death is real. My lesson learned? If you really want to live before you die, live generously, love ruthlessly, serve compassionately and push yourself into those uncomfortable and vulnerable moments as often as you can muster; because she's right, its not like Stefan said at all.  






"To love at all is to be vulnerable.  Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken.  If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal.  Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements.  Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness.  But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change.  It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable." - CS Lewis The Four Loves