You may say I'm a Loudmouth..... but I'm not the only one......

I'm actually not a Loudmouth.

Well, let me clarify that.  I'm not a Loudmouth as defined by the brilliant Sherri Slater.  But I hope to be..... one day.

I am... a Loudmouth by the definition of some.  I had a bartender tell me I was loud once... which could be considered a Loudmouth of sorts.... but he had really big ears... so I am certain I wasnt't loud- he just had an uncanny ability to hear me better than most- and I told him so. 

I might also be considered a Loudmouth by anyone within three blocks of one of my girls' soccer games.  Again... not exactly the definition I'm referencing here.  (although- I LOVE being a loudmouth-soccer mom) 

I have been known to belt out the songs at church louder than the average pew-participant; much to the sha-grin of my children.... still.... this doesn't qualify me for the new Loudmouth category I have been inspired by. 

So here's what happened:  

My mom invited me to a girl's night with her friends to attend the debut performance of her friend Sheri's production, 'Loudmouths.'  No brainier- if you know my Mom, or her friends, or Sheri, or Sheri's history of performances... there was no question. This was the perfect storm of perfected-ness.... all in one evening. 

I.  Had. To. Go. 

I was not disappointed.  There was amazing conversation. There were shared meals and shared wine as we responsibly considered our budgets.  In-between yummy food and yummy wine were introductions to new people as they passed through our enchanted evening destined for their own mediocre evening.  

Behind the scenes glance: there was a deliberate avoidance of eye contact with an individual that played a recent role in my professional turmoil- I'm not proud that I avoided the encounter, but I don't regret protecting that enchanted evening.  It happened. I acknowledge it; for better or worse.

Back to the high light reel: 

I didn't exactly know what I was getting myself in to after shared meals and shared wine.  I knew it was a stage production that was conceived in, grown in and given birth by a friend. 

Not just a friend. A friend I admire and look up to as a relevant, compelling woman of  integrity and compassion.  Oh- and brilliant.  Did I mention she's brilliant? Well- she is..... especially on stage. Oh how she is brilliant on stage. 

So, after shared meals and shared wine, I went. We went.  The marketing materials were brilliant. There were even lapel pins... we took one and added them to our outfits immediately. 

There were books for sale.  I didn't look. I don't really have time to read anything that isn't necessary... I'm just too.... 50 shades of busy for all of that ;) 

Dim the house lights. 

Spot light center stage. 

Enter Sherri. 

Classically cool. 

Simplistically fashionable. 

Cute as a button, Sherri. 

And  3....2....1.... 

Wait?!?!     What?!?!       

This is a college project?!?!  

I've! Been! Duped!! 

The books should have been a clue. Damn that shared wine. My awareness had been compromised.  

And thank God it had ...... 

The next two hours were filled with a large group of women portraying other women and quoting from their chosen form of truth-articulation.  I don't remember the names of these authors, poets and musicians... but that's not the point. At least it wasn't the point for me. (Sorry, Sherri,  if I am completely off base here) 

The point was... the point is.... that our story, our truth, isn't meant to dwell solely in our brains or in our hearts.  Our stories, our truths, are meant to be shared. They are meant to offer hope.  They are meant to instigate change.  They are meant to build community.  They are meant to tear down antiquated establishments of classism, racism and genderism. They are meant to extend love.  They are meant to extend grace. 

I hate to think of how much I spent trying to hide my story, in hopes of convincing others that my plot was far more note-worthy than my true story.  In hopes, perhaps, that I could convince myself my projected plot was, actually, the truth of my story.  

As I read the pages of time lost, I am not proud of every page.  I am not proud of most pages.  I want to rip them out. I want to ban them from the library of life. I want to burn them. 

I won't: it wouldn't do any good.  The ashes would be put back together so the black-market hater's society could still gorge themselves on every page.  

Instead, I make peace with the pages that can't be unwritten.  I give thanks for the torturous lessons learned from those pages.  I commit to writing a new story from here on out, and I commit to sharing my story: all of it.  

My story sharing desire is not to undo unfair treatment of individuals in the workplace, or overthrow government structures that prevent national unity and growth.  Well, not yet at least.  

My desire is for one person,that carries the guilt and shame of pages already written, to find courage, strength, peace and love as they write new pages and change their story. Maybe, if we all become truth-telling Loudmouths, the healing and acceptance shared and sought would present the perfect storm for life-giving change world-wide. 

You may say I'm dreamer.... but I'm not the only one. 

Blinking Back Tears

I worked a 'Home-Based Business Show' at the mall recently.  

I can't begin to estimate the number of people that passed my table.  Hundreds for sure, maybe thousands.  Some people made eye contact, most did not.  I didn't take it personally - there are many people in direct sales that have created a negative stigma around businesses like mine.   Not gonna lie- I usually avoid them at all costs.

It did bother me a little though.  This lack of Human connection; this lack of community.  We are so busy getting to our next item of business in our 'life improvement plan' that we don't acknowledge the people around us.

Well, I decided I was going to say 'Hi' to as many people as I could, whether they were making eye contact or not.  Not because I had an agenda. Not to make a point.  Not to increase sales.  Not for any objective other than.....to let them know they are noticed..... they matter.... and I really do want them to have a good day.  That's it.

I couldn't help but think of the scripture that has come to mean so much to me over the past year: Acts 3: 1-11 The crippled beggar sat in the same place every day; at the gate of the temple; a gate that is called Beautiful.  Every day this crippled beggar asked for charitable gifts.

On this day, John and Peter, noticed him.  They looked at him. When they called to this crippled beggar, he wasn't even looking at them.  Interesting.  Right?!?!  This beggar is asking for money and not even looking at the people he's asking.

Was he so used to being passed by that he stopped expecting charitable gifts?  Was he so used to being ignored that he couldn't look at the faces of the passers by?  Was he so humiliated by his life-long ailment and dependency on others to carry him to his begging place that he wouldn't look at the faces of the passers by?

This day, like all the rest,  the crippled beggar asked for money. This day was different though.  This day he was seen.  This day he was noticed.   I can only imagine what that act alone, this act of acknowledgment must have meant to him. On top of that, I'm sure he was now expecting a charitable gift.  Right?!?!

You might know how the story ends, but if not..... Peter and John didn't have any money.  True story.  They could not give him a charitable gift - so, through the power of the Holy Spirit they healed this crippled beggar.  They had no money so his consolation prize was HEALING!!!!   He went jumping and leaping.

That might be favorite part.  This crippled beggar asked for money..... and God gave him absolute healing.  He didn't ask for healing.  He didn't ask for the one thing that could have solved all of his other problems.  He asked for money.

I think this is more common than we realize - isn't it?

We carry our hurt to the gate of choice and we ask for a job or we ask for restored relationships or a we ask for a prescriptions or we ask that our loved ones be healed.  What if we're asking for the wrong thing?  What if the blessing God so desperately wants to give us is bigger than a monetary answer for a crippled beggar.

There was one girl, that day at the mall, I didn't extend my greeting to.  I regret it deeply now.  She was a teenager-ish girl.  She was blinking back tears.  She was with a mother-ish figure, with a not-so-warm look on her face and a not-so-warm 'pep' in her step.  She was blinking back tears.

I looked away.  Initially, I thought it was proper to give them their space to wade through the waters they were in.  Maybe I was right, maybe I was wrong.  That can't be undone.

That experience has reminded me, however, that every one we come in contact with has a story.  Many of those stories remain in the 'behind the scenes footage' and are riddled with hurt and burdens we will never know of.  Most people are blinking back tears in some way.

Behind the scenes glimpse:   I looked away. I've been blinking back so many tears of my own, for so long now, I was afraid that my greeting to these ladies; ladies blinking back tears, may have led to exposure of my tears blinked back and started a full-on cry-o-rama.

This reality led me to examine the second part of this scripture in Acts.  Have I been seeking the wrong answers?    Have I been missing the bigger plan?   

Some tears are meant to be cried....not dried.  God's plan is not always a plan of deliverance, sometimes it is a plan of endurance.  He does, in fact, give us more than we can handle so that we are driven to depend on Him more.

As I sit awhile longer, at the gate, begging for a job, begging for community, begging for healed relationships and begging for clarity...... I will take a moment - not to beg, but to look around me. Maybe the answers are already there.  Maybe I'll take a break from begging and make time for leaping and jumping. 

I am learning....slowly... But learning none the less that ....  It is in the leaping and jumping and praising God in ALL circumstances that open the channels of healing and blessing.

If you are blinking back tears of your own, I hope you'll join me.  Join me in the leaping and jumping before your answers are revealed; and join me in the crying.  If you would like to share your need for prayer with me, I would love to add you to my prayer list.  You can email or message me if your tears are private tears.  

My Mom.... and being Mom

I have amazing people in my life.  People that reminded me this day of celebration for some.... is a day of mourning and grieving for others.  

Today: I give thanks for my mother....  She  loved her family to lengths pushed harder and further than she deserved.  

I give thanks for my children... the children gifted... to me .... from God. 

I give thanks for my baby lost..... opened eyes to the hurt of others I never fully understood and handled so haphazardly.  

I give thanks for my friends that boldly blaze through their journey of dreams of motherhood that never came true and for the message God gives them to heal others as they go. 

I give thanks for my friends that embrace children not born of their womb... and offer love to them as if they had. 

..... but I still grieve.... I still hurt... for most of the things above.  

I grieve that I have hurt my Mother in ways I can't ever heal.  I grieve the mistakes I've made with my children.  I still awaken to cries of a baby I can't console because I lost him.  I grieve for children that aren't loved by their biological parents and need the love of surrogate families. 

What I feel for my friends.... and even those I don't know... that are experiencing loss of children or loss of family dreams not realized can't  be summarized by words. 

That being said.... I just realized that honoring and grieving the journey of others' reality can't steal the reality I've been given: nor would they want it to. 

My friend Stephanie led me to this summary: We usually get to accept and acknowledge these feelings (above) separately: but not on Mother's Day.  These feelings of hurt and joy and gratitude and brokenness all live together - on the same day- at the same time.  

And it's true. And they do. And hopefully we learn and love and grow and love more and worry less and trust more and 

offer each other grace and kindness if we don't. 

My Mom .... and the first to call me Mom.  They inspire me to love others more and to beg God to cover my deficiencies with His grace. 

Life is Messy

What happened to slowing down?  Sanctuary moments?  Beauty hunting?

Ummmm.... apparently I got distracted.

In no less than two days after sanctuary moments confessed,  I was pledging allegiance to my task list again.  I was praying to the traffic gods again.  I was promising myself I'd look for gifts after I got the kids in bed.  I was sneaking in a load of laundry and a sink full of dishes before the kids got up.  I was applying for jobs.  I was making lunches.  I was getting kids to practices.  I was getting kids to soccer games.  I was trying to build three businesses.  And that doesn't even begin to touch my 'behind the scenes footage.' 

Monday morning I felt like I was drowning.  Literally.  My stomach ached.  I couldn't breathe.  My inhaler didn't help.  I wanted to cry.  I wanted my Mom.  I wanted my Dad.  

For the first time, maybe in all my 37 years, I looked for truth and peace in my Creator and Savior first.  I got still.  I got quiet.  And I did it at the lake.  

He leads me beside the still and restful waters. 

For those of you that know this beautifully powerful lake, you know that 'still waters' don't visit very frequently.  For those of you that don't know this beautifully powerful lake, I'm sorry.  Really.

I usually go to Lake Michigan in confident expectation of waves.  The waves remind me that nothing stays the same  for too long.  The waves remind me that no matter how stormy life feels, I am on solid ground.  The waves remind that as long as you're still moving, you're not stuck where you're at.

Today, this lake, was as flat as glass.

Today, the flat, glass - water reminded me that it is easy to get distracted.  It is easy to answer the early morning call of task lists.  It easy to answer the call of worry.  It is easy to answer the call of self-doubt.  Inevitably, those calls lead you to the waves.  Waves are necessary at times.  And although you can find great accomplishment, progress and even fun, you will not find peace in those waves.  

As the mess of life increases, I am looking more for still, restful waters of peace.

And so I begin again.......leaving abusive relationships with task lists, abusive relationships with measuring sticks of expectations, abusive relationships with the high light reels of those around me.

And I begin again.... embracing my behind the scenes footage, embracing beauty in unsuspected places (and some very obvious places), embracing moments as sanctuaries and embracing my messy life.  May we always remember that every moment is an opportunity to begin again.  

Things aren't always what they seem

I don't remember many chapel moments during my Rochester College days.  True Story.  And - because I can't suppress the urge to apologize - "I'm sorry Dean Cain and President Johnson, I don't remember much from chapel."

There are some things I remember though......

One of them was a day Coach Pleasant delivered our message....... 

Coach Pleasant was a teacher at Rochester College, it was Michigan Christian College then, he was also the basketball coach.  He was funny, I mean really funny.  I only had one class with him, but I remember thinking, on several occasions, "If all teachers made learning this interesting, maybe I would learn more."  (not accepting responsibility for my learning process is a separate blog altogether)

So, he sat on stage as we endured the obligatory schedule, 2 songs, prayer, one song, message.  He was so dapper.  I use that word because it feels weird calling him 'good looking' - but he was.  He was really good looking and always 'put together' in a beautiful suit.

This day - he started out with the typical humor..... and then it got serious.  I remember this dapper man speaking to us in his three piece suit and saying that 'things aren't always as they seem.'  He removed his suit jacket to reveal a vest with back ripped up the seam.  He revealed dirty shirts under ripped vests and holes in socks hidden in shoes with no soles.   We only saw the polished, outer layer from where he sat, until he revealed the worn, weathered, broken layers

'Things aren't always what they seem,'  yet we are consumed with how things 'look'....... how things 'look' to us........how we present things to 'look' for others.  That seed was planted almost 20 years ago.  My soil didn't get mature enough to grow that seed until almost 2 years ago.  It was still there though.  It waited. Waited to grow it's roots in to my heart. Waited to grow it's bloom in to my life.  

I was often a deceiver by creating a 'high-light reel' of what I wanted others to see when they looked. I wanted people to be impressed so I was careful about what I included.  Yet, I suppressed, even denied at times, my 'behind the scenes' footage.

I wanted people to think I had it all together, so I'd strategically insert details of my Mom/Wife/Hard-working/Church-Going balancing act.  I would omit, however, the short tempered moments with my husband and children in an effort to maintain the balancing act.

When I finally decided my behind the scenes footage was more important than my high-light reel, I had to look closely at that footage.  I had to look closely at the layers underneath. I saw a torn heart burdened with guilt and shame.  I saw an obsession to earn the love and acceptance I desperately craved.  I saw contradiction between what I said was important to me and the choices I made.

I knew I couldn't change the footage behind the scenes of yesterday, but the scenes of tomorrow weren't yet written. I began to mend the fabric of my garments.  I began to clean the cobwebs from the corners of my heart.  I began filling my heart with love.  I began filling my heart with truth.  I began to offer myself the love and acceptance I so desperately craved.

It's daily work... to 'be as you wish to seem.'  It's life-giving, heart-filling, thanks-giving work.

The high-light reel still calls to me.......especially when I allow myself to be distracted by the high-light reels around me.  Then I remember, we all have some ripped vests and holy socks.  I need to focus only on mending mine.

Oops......I did it again...

I watched a serious Oprah marathon a couple years ago when I was couch-bound by surgery recovery.  I heard her guest, Iyanla say, "When someone shows you who they are, just believe them."  Break-through moment for sure. 

Like most of my 'break-throughs' I realize this is not rocket science; it might as well have been though.  It changed the way I looked at people.  It changed the way I cared about people.  It changed the way I looked at me.

After that statement.....and much soul searching...... I realized that most of the negativity I felt toward others was a result of unreasonable, uninvited, unknown expectations. I imposed expectations on almost everyone in my life that were in direct conflict with who they 'were.'  As if that weren't enough - most of them weren't even aware of said expectations.  I spent a lot of time frustrated with people, upset with people and disappointed in people.  

When I was betrayed, I was hurt.  When I felt alone, I thought I had been abandoned.  When hurtful things were said behind my back, I was painfully shocked.  

Truth be told, it was my fault.  All the people that wounded me, showed me clearly who they were at one time or another.  I allowed my 'needs' to out-weigh logic and I jumped in to those relationships anyway.  

So, I stopped.  I stopped blaming others for my misery.  I stopped expecting others to behave in ways that aren't 'who they are.' 

Almost instantly, I saw everyone differently.  I no longer saw anyone through a lens of un-met expectations.  I only saw them as they are.  I only saw them for who they are.  

I was amazed by how many wonderful people are in my journey with me.  The people around me, the people in my community, the people close to me, the people not-so-close to me..... amazing people! 

I missed it for so long.  I couldn't see their amazing-ness through my lens of disappointment.  I acknowledge that truth - but I won't rest in it for long - progress doesn't live there.  I decided to seek the value in others and hopefully add value to the people that invite me in to their journey. 

There were also some that I had to establish as 'arms-length' friends, and that's okay.   

Sooo.....I've been working on this for a couple years now - this past couple weeks I had a huge set back.  I did it again....

In several pockets of my relationship garden, I allowed expectations to sneak back in.  Not only that, I realized that in the face of disappointment and frustration, I have 'been' someone I wouldn't want to be in community with.  

I've complained about people; instead of encouraging people.  I've been exasperated in needful moments; instead of being open to filling needs.  I'm stopping...again.

93.  I'm incredibly grateful that every moment is an opportunity to 'turn it around.'  And.... turn it around, I will.