I AM

This morning I was reading a friend’s Facebook status and it reminded me of an event that happened to me years ago. I began to write about it, years ago to publish on my Blog Spot, but never got to it because my thoughts were unfinished and I didn't feel as though it was worthy to be posted. Below is the quote and author that finally got me to publish this. 

"Honesty is a rapidly disappearing attribute. Truth is hedged and masked. Integrity is compromised. "Mom isn't here" our children say when we want to avoid the caller. We silently pocket the incorrectly counted change received in the drive-through lane. Untruths we label as "small white lies" punctuate our character until authenticity is forfeited. A life of integrity demands honesty. So does worship." –Mary Southerland

Oh boy, this statement, ALL of it rang true to me this morning, Monday, March 25, 2013. The part that stood out the most in the above quote has to do with “quietly pocketing the incorrect change…” I had a similar event happen to me about five years ago. This was one of those “Ah-Ha” moments in a person’s life where things from the past and present suddenly ‘click,’ and make sense. It’s when all ‘insignificant’ information from the past is finally made ‘clear’ when an event occurs. Before that time, the events are separate and the information seems to be just that, insignificant.

I was at our local Dollar Store, picking up supplies for a classroom party of some sort. At the checkout counter the cashier said $5.34. I challenged the amount and said it could not be right because I purchased more than five items. The cashier said she only counted five items. I insisted I had three packs of stars, one pack apples and one pack of something else. The cashier opened the bag and recounted. When she was finished, she said I was right and was astonished that I admitted to having six items instead of five. I was taken back a little and said, but of course I would tell you that. She then thanked me for being honest and most people would not say anything.

OK, I do not tell you this story because I feel great about myself or I am trying to let you know how honest, wonderful and self-righteous I am. Truly, two or three years earlier I would have been all over a dollar ‘saved’ because a cashier made a mistake. A part of me would have ‘celebrated’ the little victory I achieved at cheating a store out of a buck not counted by the cashier; her mistake, my gain. Why should I help someone else, especially if their mistake benefits me? Woohoo! 

I got into my minivan and sat there for a few minutes and thought about what the cashier had said to me. “You don’t realize, most people would not have said anything.” I was surprised and thought to myself, “what does that say about who I AM?”

“I AM.” Those two words hit me like a bolt of lightning. I felt the I AM deep within my chest, my core, my being. My ‘soul’ recognized I AM. The merging of past stories and present were united. I AM. Those two words stand alone. They are an entire sentence, a noun and a verb. They are the beginning and the end, they are the creator. I AM is God.

Here is where past meets present and then past and present meet future all at once. I AM is the answer God gave Moses when Moses asked, what is your name? God replied, “I AM.” You and I are made in the image of God, the I AM. You and I reflect I AM. My behavior, your behavior are reflections on I AM. The way I behave reflects on I AM. I steal and cheat. What does that say about who I AM? We may back off and think it may say something about our character, but what about God’s character? If we proclaim we are God’s children, made in the image of God, we reflect God. Is God cheating, untrustworthy? Well, is He? We proclaim we are His children.

There are people who do not know God. God is loving, accepting, slow to anger, full of grace and merciful. We say we are made in His image so we are those things also. If we say we are loving, kind, merciful, full of grace, but also, judge, cheat, lie, etc, can we see how others don’t believe in God or mistrust God because of how WE have behaved?

Look I get it. Some of my friends will be freaking out by what I have just said. I understand we are both saint and sinners simultaneously, but others do not know this. They only see God reflected in us. Reflections can be distorted and thing appear that really are not there. I understand that, but there are others that do not know that because they only know God through how WE have behaved.

As I sat reflecting in my car for some time, I felt remorseful, really truly remorseful because I realized my own behaviors and words have NOT always been what I know God to be. I remembered a day when not so long ago, I would have easily saved myself a dollar; basically selling God out for a buck as I claimed to be one of His children, openly wearing the Cross upon my neck as a symbol. I also realized at that point how hard it would and will be for me to live as God wants me to live because I live in this world. It is sooooo easy to ‘forget’ who we are and whose we are. It is a daily struggle to discern God’s will and to submit joyously to what God’s plan is for me, because frankly, most days I have my own agenda. As a Christian, I know Jesus came into this world and died for my sins. Because of that, each day I am renewed to live as God wants me to live,and  to live as God created me to live, but and yes for me there is a but, Jesus coming into this world, and forgiving my sins doesn't make it any easier. In fact it makes it harder, BUT I wouldn't change it. I will struggle daily with how I am to live. I will struggle with how I reflect God’s image, because in doing so I am free. I know God loves me and He forgives me, so each day I am free to make mistakes in the journey, my journey, ‘The Walk,’ to be who God made me to be. "

It started WAY before we left

This is the second in a series of entries I am writing on my experience in Haiti. Many have asked how they can help. Please visit the Haitian Timoun Foundation's (HTF) website, ( http://www.htflive.com) where you can sponsor a child and view other ways you can get involved and SAVE lives! If you have not read the first entry in this series entitled, 'Immersion Vs. Mission' I ask that you do. This is my attempt at telling you from my own perspective how I experienced this 'event.' Not sure many of you will get my humor, but I am not trying to offend anyone. Read and know that I am coming from nothing but pure admiration, and love for my Haitian brothers and sister!

 I could start the trip when we landed in Port au Prince, and initially I did, but as I thought about it, the trip started before that with a meeting in the fall where we were handed a large printed packet front and back about details, do’s and don’ts, which shots to get, requirements such as obtaining emergency evacuation insurance (reassuring right?), and our tentative schedule while in Haiti. The next ‘meeting’ was the Thursday before we left. It was a get together, bon voyage sort of thing where the group, spouses and family all gathered at one of my fellow traveling buddies homes. This was used for ‘last’ minute details, questions and concerns. Since everyone but the Pastor and one other person from our group of 16 had never been to Haiti, those present at the ‘party’ (some of the spouses had already gone on previous immersion trips) gave us suggestions and ‘advice’. One such piece of advice was “don’t worry about wearing make-up. You don’t need it.” There were about three of us who looked around at each other as if we were told some really bad news. Other details included information regarding mosquito nets, clothing (no shorts, especially for woman, pants and skirts only), details about the lack of running water and flush toilets (yellow let it mellow, brown flush it down, with a bucket of water held waste high and a quick flick of the wrist, “flick and swish” AND unless the stuff comes out of your body, it gets thrown into the garbage can).  A person can really get stuck in minute inertia of the details rather than the experience it-self. Thank goodness Owen was with me and he needed to get home. After all it was a school night. And thank goodness for the flowing Prestige (I only had one that night, but made up for my lack of consumption on the trip). The Prestige (Haitian beer) and my child kept the edge off and kept me grounded. Besides, I figured someone already did all the thinking for me and why worry about things that were out of my control. I decided right then, I was still going to bring my make-up.

I’m not sure if it was my ‘lack’ of urgency that had me procrastinating until the very end to gather the needed supplies and clothing, or my schedule. I didn’t mention this earlier, but I knew I would be gone one week and I decided to take the work after the trip off. Since I work with children and my schedule is flexible, I doubled up on my treatments the two weeks prior to going on the trip. I was sick the week before we left. Full head and ear stuffed cold. I started taking every over the counter medication I could to ‘clear’ my ear and head. In fact at the Thursday get together, people were asking how I was feeling and it was suggested by several people I should not go because “Haiti is NOT the place you want to be sick.” Not so reassuring. I looked at my illness as a possible sign from God NOT to go. Up until Saturday, I seriously debated on whether I needed to call Pastor and pull out of the trip. BUT I kept hearing my promise to Jackie, Maya and Verbo that I would come to Haiti on the next trip HTF took. It was that promise that had me praying to God to get rid of the upper respiratory thing I had. I was almost mad, thinking, “God you can get rid of this, so do it. If you want me to go, you will get rid of it, just tell me what to do to make it go away before I leave.”

The night before we left (Saturday) I was pulling out of my drive way to buy lottery tickets as a present for a friend of mine’s 40^th birthday. We were attending her party in a few hours when I a neighbor was walking her dog. We began talking and she told me how she had been sick that week and she used some Nasonex etc. Like a slap in the face, I remembered the following summer Tanner’s allergist gave me some sort of spray that ‘opens’ the passage from the inner ear and throat. Needless to say, I took the spray and by morning, my ear had miraculously cleared.  This was the sign I needed from God. It was if he was saying, “Go my child, go!”

At service that day the immersion team was blessed as our fellow congregants laid their hands on us and prayed. After service I was handed a piece of paper with the child that our family sponsors. On it said his likes. “Likes throwing a ball and playing with his friends.” I had packed Legos. How presumptuous of me to think that a child in another part of the world would like what kids here like, Legos. Tom, Owen and myself went for a quick lunch, my choice, so of course I picked Mexican (Those of you who know me, know why I put that detail in here). Next to the restaurant there was a tennis shop. And well, in tennis shops there are balls! I went in and asked about used balls or cheap balls. I didn’t need professional tennis balls and certainly not a sleeve of balls. Luckily there was a bin of soft or softer tennis balls, so I picked up three of those. The young man who helped me seemed kind of impressed with my story, but the two middle aged white ladies gave me some look that clearly let me know I was crazy.  I left there feeling a little uncomfortable, but happy that I was going to be able to hand over some balls to the child we sponsor, because he likes playing with balls. How many of you are laughing at the amount of times I used the word balls? J 

Family good byes were exchanged and I later learned that a few of the husbands of the wives going on the trip asked the other men to “look after her ” or “take care of her.” I am sure it will come as no surprise that those of you who know my husband, no such sentiment or favor was asked on his behalf for me. I could be upset, but how can I? I trained him that way. I mean, I am the independent “I don’t need any kind of help or support kind of gal.” It probably never crossed Tom’s mind. He knows me too well J

The usual happenings of 17 people checking in with 17 pieces of carry-on luggage and 17 extra pieces of luggage to check posed no other difficulties than 17 people carrying 17 carry-ons and 17 checked pieces of luggage would pose. I know you are now saying wait! Seventeen people, I thought there were 16 people going. I failed to mention that one of young adult/youth also traveled with us to Haiti, but left us immediately to volunteer for three weeks at one of our partners (Wing of Hope. You will hear much more about them in later entries).

Most of the group sat together on the plane. I did not sit with anyone from our group. In fact I don’t recall sitting next to anyone. That was because I used Tom’s frequent flyer miles to purchase my ticket. There is an upside to all of his traveling. Meaning ‘free’ airline tickets, not the not sitting by anyone in our group statement. I just want to clarify that. The plane trip to Miami was short. We debarked, picked up our checked baggage and tried to have them rechecked through to Port au Prince. No such luck, so we checked into the IN THE AIRPORT HOTEL! Hey it’s in all caps, because I have never seen one, let alone stay in one. I’m trying to convey my enthusiasm over the IN AIRPORT HOTEL, which was way convenient since we had wake-up calls at 4 AM to check our baggage and ensure we had enough time to make it to the gate.  Afterwards we all went to eat. Have you ever tried to corral 17 people into making a decision on where we should all eat! I will let that sit with you a while.

Dinner set the tone for the trip. There was no talk of fears, expectations or anything of the sort. We were all just ‘present.’ Present to our environment, present to each other and present to the spirit beginning to flow. Now we can go deeper and say, all sorts of spirit was making its way around, including the spirit of ale. Lots of laughter ensued.

 Four in the morning came rather quickly. Happily, although searching for the nearest open coffee stand, we checked our luggage, went through security, ate breakfast and made it to the gate in plenty of time. I guess you have to make sure there is plenty of time when traveling with a large group like ourselves. Especially the group I was with. One person in particular tended to end up missing-(it’s a joke and I am giving that person a hard time J).

Again, I did not sit with people in my group. I sat with a gentleman from Haiti. He wasn’t just any man from Haiti, I found out through our conversation that he works for the Haitian government. Did I mention he smelled really good? (That my friends was a thought bubble that popped). He now lives in Miami and travels to Haiti often. He is married, but does not have children. His wife is a first generation born American Haitian.  I asked him many questions such as,” are you going to move back?” “What do you miss most about Haiti?” “What are some misconceptions people have about Haiti?” “What do you want me to know about Haiti?” I learned much from this conversation. I must admit I was rather leery speaking to a ‘government’ employee or official from Haiti, since we know the history of the government and its treatment of the people. I gathered that he would like to move back to Haiti, however, he is doing more here for his country than he could do from there. He wanted me to know that Haiti is a safe place and other Caribbean countries (he named them, but I will not) have a higher crime rate than Haiti. He told me that the Haitian people will not sit around waiting for someone to give them work. They will go out and make themselves a job and that all the people selling goods is their way of trying to make a living. He told me what he missed most about Haiti is the sense of community and family. Interesting, he said that. I think most of us when asked what do you miss about a place, we come up with a place or a restaurant. At least that is what I do. He then said he misses the beach. I asked him to tell me the biggest difference he has seen between the United States and Haiti. He told me that people in the US seem to be continually connected to their technology. They have phones, games, televisions. That technology is ‘our’ entertainment. In Haiti, people are the means of worth and community. Absorb this statement.  Let me help you absorb it a bit more. I too think technological advances are key to our existence, but have we become so over involved with our smart phones, computers, televisions, video games that we have lost the essence that we are spiritual beings as well that have a NEED for human contact and deep relationships with other humans?  It’s ironic since I am using a laptop to type this, and posting the link on a social network. Where do we draw the line? Just askin’.

We landed in 90 minutes, short flight. He turned to me (yes I know his name, if I told you, I would have to kill you) and welcomed me to his country. We debarked. All 17 pasty people, 1 for sure and 13 others, I am guessing a little timid and anxious for our experience to begin (at the time we didn’t realize it started long before we even landed). At this point I need to pee.  However, the immigration line was rather long and I was assured there was a restroom on the ‘other’ side of the immigration station. Can I tell you there was NOT a restroom on the other side? And if there was, I certainly did not see it.

Instructions before we ever left Georgia were clear. “After we get through immigration do not allow anyone to take your baggage. Do not show your money or give anyone money or you will be swarmed. Stick together. Do not take any picture of people unless you ask them first.” I imagine if you have not traveled to other parts of the world you would not know this. Leaving the Port au Prince airport was nothing I had not experienced in other countries. There were many people asking to take our bags and even people begging for money. The shock came after we left the airport and began our drive to Jacmel, Haiti (approx. 2 ½ hrs. from Port au Prince). A little injection of humor at this point. I am on a bus. I am seated over the wheel well. My right leg practically in my chest and I still have not used the restroom. I am about to embark on a 2 ½ hour bus ride. It’s one thing when you are in your 20’s pre kids. Remember I am 40ish, post kids. My bladder is not as effective as the younger adults.

Pulling out of the airport parking lot we saw UN trucks with armed men in the back of them. It was a convoy. If memory serves me correctly they were from Bolivia or Columbia. Traveling further down the road we started to go into parts of the city. It was crowded with thousands of people. When I mean thousands, I am not exaggerating when I say thousands. We drove past the Presidential Palace. There it still remained crushed. Two years after the earthquake, it has been destroyed even more by nature. It is still surrounded by a large imposing fence. I did not notice any people inside of the large compound. There were people all around the parameter of the fence and across the street was a tent city. There was incredible amounts of garbage and the smell, there are no words to describe the smell. The only thing that came to my mind as we were driving with the windows closed as the smell made its way into the bus was if Hell smelled, this was what it would smell like. People were living, cooking on and next to the mounds of garbage. This was shocking to me, to say the least. I could have gotten ‘stuck’ on the initial sights, sounds and smells I observed, BUT these quickly became just minor details to the hope, joy and enormity of blessings and life the rest of the trip gave me. It’s funny how many times those of us who ‘have’ lots of stuff, material wealth etc, believe we will be the ones doing the giving. In an ironic twist, we realize, what we have to give, the material goods and finances are a far less valuable than the spiritual gifts we receive. I don’t know why we are surprised by this, since Jesus speaks of this quite often in the New Testament.  

The hope, joy and people who are full of life begin to emerge in the next blog entry. As the trip continues the devastation, smell and garbage I saw become a fast and very small detail to the brilliance of the smiles, happiness, pride and hope in the people I meet, the way the live and pure thanksgiving and praise for God himself.  I was with and saw people who actually are replicating The Walk of Jesus. It was incredible. Wait until I tell you about that!

Immersion Vs. Mission

I started this blog the day after I returned from Haiti. I took a couple of days off from writing to wrap my mind around what I experienced, only to start up again several days later and realize there was NO way I can write even a fraction of what I experienced in one blog. So I am separating my experience into several blogs entries. This initial blog begins with the background of why I went on this trip, my preparations for the trip and finally a general definition of the type of trip I went on. Follow-up  blog entries will go into detail about what we did on the trip. That is, where we went and what we saw. My intent with the final entries is to share with you the people I met and what I learned. There were fifteen other people that also went on this trip. By no means what I write about is what they thought, felt and perceived.

Many of you know that ‘my’ church has hosted a group of dancers from the Resurrection Dance Theatre of Haiti the past two years. These are young men that have been raised in one of several ‘homes’ apart of the St. Joseph’s family. These homes are just that, homes for orphaned children.  My family had the privilege of hosting some of the ‘guys’ in our house for two nights the first year they came to Suwanee, GA. This was in March of 2010, just two months after the earthquake happened in Haiti. Then my hubby went to Haiti in April (a month after the Resurrection Dance theatre was here) to help break apart, literally by sledge hammer, the remains of one of the St. Joseph’s homes.  The following year (2011) the Resurrection Dance Theatre of Haiti made its way back to Georgia and we were able to see the ‘guys’ again. Several of them asked me when I was going to come to Haiti. I promised them the next time there is a trip, I will come. My hubby and I even discussed with the founder/director about coming on our own and not with a group when he was here in April, but alas, that never came to fruition. In September of 2011, in our church newsletter was an announcement that there was going to be the first adult immersion trip to Haiti since the January 2010 earthquake. Immediately, I let my hubby know he would have to stay in town and work and if that would not be possible, I would make arrangements for the kids. I knew I was going. I did not care or need to know who else was going on the trip. It did not matter to me. I just knew I was going. Side note: To all those that went on this past trip, I couldn’t have experienced this with better people. God works that way. He put us together J

Initially when I told people I was going to Haiti their first question to me was, “Aren’t you scared?” In all honestly, I never had any feelings of apprehension or being fearful. I just knew I was supposed to go and everything would be as it was to be. As the trip came closer, I began to pray that I would go with an open heart and mind. That everything good and bad I had heard about Haiti would NOT influence me in the least bit and I prayed that I see, hear, smell and experience only what God wanted me to see, hear, smell and feel. I did not want anyone else’s experiences or thoughts to ‘color’ what God wanted me to experience. I must stop here and give a shout out to my Padre and yours-God. Thanks for hearing my prayers. You knew what was and is best for me and for that I am thankful and praise you. A side note, those of you reading this and cannot believe I just called God padre, get over it. HE has a sense of humor and actually enjoys when we are happy and laughing. HE sees what is on our hearts (our intent).  And besides, haven’t you all seen the picture of the laughing Jesus?

Before I go any further, I need to define the difference between an Immersion trip and a Mission trip. An Immersion trip is a completely different concept than a Mission Trip. Mission Trip: the organized work of a religious missionary. An activity directed toward making or doing.  This usually includes some sort of ‘spreading the word,’ telling of the gospel and even engaging in activities that would have the people you are helping baptized. Immersion Trip: the act of immersing or state of being immersed. Immersed: involve oneself deeply into a particular state. I went on an immersion trip, not a mission trip. Before I left on this trip, I had many people ask what we were going to build and gave me encouragement to ‘spread the word.’  I did neither. I received the word by those I spent time with by their actions AND because of what I experienced I was and continue to the one being ‘built.’

I went with a group of people from the Haitian Timoun Foundation (HTF). Timoun in Haitian Creole means children. This foundation has been in existence for 15 years. They support various grass root Haitian run entities or small organizations. HTF works directly with their partners and ask them what they need, not what the foundation thinks or believes they need. All of HTF’s partners have the goal of working to build-up Haiti through the education and development of its children.

I apologize for the lack of pictures. The follow-up entries will have some pictures or a link to pictures and  details what I experienced ..."If hell had a smell, this it what it would smell like."

Someone just like me

I haven't posted in a while, not that I haven't written about things, I just wasn't feeling courageous enough to share them. This is something I wrote back in 2006. Yes this did happen to me and the events are real. I have openly talked about this experience and it still at times can overwhelm me. At one point it was published on a website-God Bless Humanity. I have since searched their archives and have looked for this on the Internet and have not found it. So, I am guessing it is alright for me to re-post it on my blog. I mean, I wrote it and it was my experience to share :) Again I ask for an open heart while reading. Sharing of such thoughts are not easy. I am vulnerable.

I had received the call one spring morning in 2006 from Wisconsin that my sister’s golden retriever, Rusty was dying. He was a healthy young dog. The reason he was dying was uncertain. All of his organs were shutting down.  Now generally I would not have taken a pet’s death too hard, except this dog had been with my sister and her two boys for about 8 years. He was there for them during trying times, including a house fire back in 1998 that consumed everything they owned, including other pets.  My sister couldn’t afford to pay with him with her waitressing income, so the family bartered for him. They agreed to work at odd carpentry jobs to get him.

As they days of Rusty’s looming death took place, the details to why he was dying came to light. He had been poisoned. As my sister and her family began to put the pieces of the puzzle together we learned their neighbors in the duplex, which also happened to be their landlords, were the suspects. The landlords my sister once knew had ‘changed.’ The husband and wife split up when the husband became involved with a woman that was a drug user, had Multiple sclerosis and had been on trial for accessory to murder. In the years that followed, the man lost his possessions, the utilities were turned off on his side of the duplex, they would enter my sister’s family’s side of the duplex when they were at work and in school and use their shower, help themselves to food and ‘borrowed’ money from them.

So what did Rusty do to become the victim of their apparent poisoning? Rusty, had been waking up during the wee hours of the night and alerting my sister of ‘activity’ and people entering and leaving the duplex of her landlord. One night, Rusty ‘stopped’ a drug deal going down. Soon afterwards, Rusty lay dying at the vet’s office with organ failure. Watching my sister and her two sons deal with this horrific incident of life was hard. It infuriated me. It made me so angry that hatred began to well up inside of me. I do not like when people take advantage of those less fortunate. And yes, my sister and her family were less fortunate than the landlord who chose to get involved in illegal drugs and lose his possessions. I decided I was going to do something about it. I was going to write those people a letter. It was easy enough to find out their address, since my sister had the adjoining duplex. I already knew their names; I had heard my sister speak of them often.

 I carefully picked out some stationary. I wanted it to look pretty. I wanted them to open up the card and think they were getting a friendly note, only to read that their actions would lead them to Hell. Yep, you read the last sentence correctly. I was going to write them and tell them how horrible they were and they were heading to hell. I thoughtfully planned out what and how I was going to condemn them to Hell for their actions. All I had to do was write the card.

One beautiful spring morning, I waited until they boys were in school and Tom was off to work. I took out my beautiful stationary with purple iris’ adorning the cover. The ‘special’ stationary cards I save for important occasions. I sat down at my kitchen table with the warm sunlight streaming in. I opened the cover of the card and dated it. I wrote Dear John and Jane. I then stopped, sat back in my chair and asked my self what kind of person would do something like this? Who would poison the family pet of a hard working mother of two small boys?  Who kills one of the only things that bring the family joy? Then I heard a voice say, “Someone just like you.”

I blurted incredulously, “Someone just like me?” “Me?” I was flabbergasted, mystified and shocked. I began to think, I am much better than that. I would NEVER do something like that. Then the question was posed to me, “what kind of person does something like that?” The question posed to me made me began to think of the difference between those people and me. Who would be accessory to murder, kill a family’s pet, be a drug addict, break up a marriage and steal? The answer came like a flash of light. “LOVE.” Love was the answer. They were not receiving it. They did not know it or ever knew it. Or may be the ‘love’ they received was not the love that I had glimpsed in my life and just began to know.  The love I had experienced since I began to get to know God and His son Jesus. If others in my life had not shown the love of God towards me, I would be ‘just like them.’

So the Epiphany had hit me. I began to weep at the kitchen table. The card of damnation changed, before I even began to write it. Instead, the words of love, forgiveness, hard work and Jesus poured out of me. I wrote to them that no matter what they had done in life, that they were loved and forgiven. That there is hope and they could receive help. God is there to help them, they just needed to ask. I also wrote that it would not be an easy road to change, but it was possible. It really was possible. And finally, I wrote that I loved them.

 I closed the stationary card and looked at its beautiful cover again. The inside now matched the outside. The card now had more than just physical beauty. The words written on the inside of the card now beamed outwards. It was a resurrection of sorts, for the card and more importantly for me

I addressed and stamped the envelope. I walked to the mailbox, still dumbfound at the event that had just taken place at the kitchen table. An angry, hate filled married women of two, being compared to what others would call ‘worthless members of society,’ realizing they were just like me. To this day, I have no idea whether the card made it to the intended people. My sister moved soon afterwards and I never heard about the landlords again. God works in miraculous ways. May be the card did reach them and all the glorious things I hope happened did. They changed their lives. Then again, may be they threw the card away when they read it. Or may be they never received it. Regardless, it changed one person’s life, mine. Now when I start to judge someone and ask, ‘how can someone do something like that?” I remember what I was told. “Someone just like you.”

May you know the true and pure love of our creator, God and our savior and lord Jesus Christ. May the Holy Spirit work within you to help you get to know this love and share it with others. His love makes all things possible, even changing hearts filled with anger and hatred to love, compassion, forgiveness and hope.

Would we recognize Jesus if we met him?

Before I start this blog, I must let you know why I was silent during Lent. I had full intentions of reporting my journal writing after reading daily scripture and contemplating, BUT as God would have it, the first scripture reading dealt with praying to God and keeping your prayers personal. So I took that as an indication I was not to post my writings for all to read. May be one day they will be meant to be posted, but right now, I guess they are not.

I then had a blog spot for Easter and the week after Easter, but I never finished them. Seriously contemplating how my journey is going with God has no finish AND there is so much, I don’t have the words to express many things I am experiencing adequately or efficiently enough for others to read.

This writing is an actual experience that happened to me in December of 2009. I chose to post this now because of the gospel story I heard this past week. The story is about two of Jesus’ disciples who are walking on the road to Emmaus after His crucifixion. They have ‘heard’ from the women and Peter that Jesus’ body was not in the tomb and that angels reported  Jesus was raised from the dead. As they are walking to Emmaus from Jerusalem, a stranger begins to walk with them. He asks them why they are sad. They tell this ‘stranger’ that Jesus was a man they believed to be the messiah; the one who was going to deliver Israel from the oppression they had been suffering for many, many years. This ‘stranger’ then ‘reminds’ them of what the prophets had been telling people for years. The messiah must die and be raised to glory. The disciples listen to this ‘stranger’ for their entire walk. As their walk comes to an end in Emmaus, the ‘stranger’ keeps walking, but the disciples ask him to have dinner and join them for the evening. The ‘stranger’ agrees. When they settle in to eat, the ‘stranger,’ picks up the bread, gives thanks and breaks it. At that moment two things happen simultaneously. One; the disciples recognize that the ‘stranger’ isn’t a stranger, but the risen Christ, Jesus and two; the ‘stranger’ disappears into thin air.  The disciples look at each other and say, “Was our hearts not burning when he was speaking to us?”

What? Really? I think I can more easily believe the part where Jesus vanishes into thin air more than the part where the disciples do not recognize Jesus for hours while walking and talking with him.  This has always confused me. And if Jesus’ own disciples can’t recognize him, how are we to recognize Him? We, unlike his disciples, have never seen him alive. That was what I felt and thought until it happened to me on a Friday in December 2009…

An extremely good friend of mine called me in October of 2009 and asked me if I would like to go with her to NYC, all expenses paid. She was one of ten women nominees being honored for their efforts to help others with charities they started or were involved in. I jumped at the chance. I had never been to NYC before and I couldn’t wait to spend time with my friend.  We arrived one late Friday, December afternoon. We checked into our sleeping quarters, had dinner and then started walking to the sites. It was well after 10:00 PM when we started walking toward Rockefeller Center. It was magical. The city was decorated for Christmas. We were singing Christmas carols. We watched people ice skating in the famous Rockefeller Center ice rink. Then we had our picture taken in front of the Rockefeller Christmas Tree. We went back to watch people ice skate while our picture was being processed in the NBC store.

While my friend and I were watching people skate and engrossed in our conversation, from behind us we hear a man ask us if we like the names Sarah and Mary. He tells us those are two of his favorite names. We turn around to see a stocky man about 35 years old. I would describe him as ‘clean-cut,’ fairly attractive, wearing a winter cap/hat, jacket and gloves. He had a camera hanging around his neck. My friend was thinking that somebody was playing a joke on her because she has a child by one of the names he mentioned. As our conversation progressed, it was evident that our ‘new’ friend or ‘stranger,’ Randy was below average in intelligence as judged by his word usage and the content of our conversation.  We learned that Randy lived at home with his parents in Pennsylvania and worked as a bagger at a grocery store. He had taken a train from PA to NYC to meet up with a family he had met the summer before at an amusement park. This family had called him a day or two before their arrival in NYC to see if Randy could meet them in the city. As I looked around I noticed others looking at us, but didn’t give it too much attention. Then Randy’s ‘childlike’ conversation changed a bit. Although he continued to use words that were more like a child of elementary age, the conversation changed to uh, shall I dare say, parable in nature.  Randy made a statement and asked us questions at the same time, “isn’t friendship, even if you just meet them, more important than work?” We both reply, “Why yes.” At this point I am still thinking of Randy as our cognitively disabled friend.  “Isn’t it important to sometimes leave what you are doing to be with other people?” “You shouldn’t feel bad about being with people, even if you leave work, should you?” “There are more important things, such as family, friends and love, right?”

I began to notice a sensation happening within me. I have not felt this before, nor have I felt this since. Words cannot describe what happened, how I felt or what I experienced. However, I will try my best, with the vocabulary I have to explain what I experienced. As Randy continued to talk, there was a screaming from my very core. Not a screaming of pain or fear, but a screaming of acknowledgement. With each word Randy spoke, the sensation grew. I felt joy overwhelming me. I felt warmth and a love overcome me. I could feel my cheeks stretched so wide it was almost uncomfortable. I felt as if my heart was literally growing IN love. My heart, my ‘being,’ my whatever was growing so large, I felt as though it might burst through my chest wall, yet it was a wonderful feeling.  As Randy continued to speak and ask us questions regarding love of family, friends and strangers, I recognized him. “This is Jesus.” Everything within me told me to get to my knees and kiss his feet. EVERYTHING IN me was pulling me down to do this with great joy and excitement. Then I heard, “Are you crazy? This man is cognitively disabled. If you do this, you will be mocking him and playing into his disability.” I then looked around again and saw people looking at us.  This time, I paid attention to their stares. Their stares were ones of disgust and disapproval. Neither Randy, my friend nor I were being loud or drawing attention to ourselves, so I am unsure why I would register how people perceived us. It took all my strength NOT to ask him if he was Jesus. My body recognized him, yet, my mind kept telling me otherwise and justifying what I was hearing and the judgment was made more ‘real’ by what I saw. Randy didn’t look like the Jesus I have come to know from art. Randy definitely was not a theologian or anyone that I might even think could resemble Christ. And from the reactions of those bystanders around us, Randy was nothing more than a cognitively challenged individual. Yet, my whole physical body was yelling. From every cell within my body, my very ‘being’ was telling me this was Jesus.

The internal struggle was beginning to drown out Randy. The background of Rockefeller Plaza was coming back into my vision and realm of consciousness. Everything within me was saying this is HIM. My mind was telling me it couldn’t be. He did not match my idea of Jesus. He didn’t match society’s idea of Jesus and he certainly could not be Jesus, because Jesus is not here in physical form anymore.

Either I or my friend then said we needed to leave and get our photo. Before we left, Randy asked, “Will you remember me?” At the same time, my friend and I replied, “Yes, we will remember you.” We walked away and through the crowd, Randy asked, “Will I see you again?” We turned around and although the crowd was walking in front of him and us, it was like a tunnel and I could see and hear Randy clearly. With full hearts my friend and I said, “Yes, we will see you again.” With that, Randy was gone. I kid you NOT. The crowd passed in front of him and he was gone. We stood there for what seemed like a few minutes and just looking. We didn’t say a word to each other. Then we walked into the NBC store to get our picture, but before we walked up the stairs, I stopped her and said, “I know you will think I am crazy for thinking this, but I swear we were just talking with Jesus.” She replied, “You know what, I was thinking the same thing and I almost said to him he reminded me of one of the world’s greatest men.”

It wasn’t until that spring, when I heard the story of “The Road to Emmaus,” as I have heard it many times before, I understood what happened to Jesus’ disciples. I too was with Jesus and was speaking to him. My heart was also burning as he spoke to me. I recognized him, yet did not dare acknowledge him, as Peter did not acknowledge Jesus for fear of persecution the night before he was crucified. I remembered Jesus’ words, “I will be with you always.” “I will see you again,” when Randy asked me if I would remember and see him again. I KNEW, from my being, not from my intellect, that I would see Him again. My only regret is that I didn’t acknowledge him when He was with me, when I was in His presence.   

I think about this experience very often; on a weekly, if not on a daily basis. I question whether I will be strong enough in my faith to publicly acknowledge the presence of Jesus the next time I am in His presence:  although he may not be society’s definition or image of Jesus, or even my idea of Jesus.  I pray that I of little faith can over- come my doubt and fears of what others think. For it is He who acknowledges me, died for me and for all of God’s creation. He is not embarrassed or deterred by what others think of me.

I also replay this experience over and over again, wondering whether it was my imagination. Was I ‘reading’ more into a simple conversation? Could Jesus ‘use’ someone else to convey a message or ‘appear’ to others? That would definitely explain why Jesus’ disciples did not recognize him. Do we at times actually embody Christ and are unaware of His presence within us?

Wow what an experience! I am grateful to have had this experience AND to have experienced it with someone who is very faithful. I know this very real ‘story’ sounds insane. Intellectually, I know that. Intellectually I know that what God did, what Jesus did was insane. Who would die for others who are unworthy? Could you justify dying for others who do not love or reject you? I can’t wrap my head around it. It does not make intellectual sense. But I also realize that God has made us more than intellectual beings. There is more to us, and if we listen to those other parts of us, we WILL hear the voice of God and ‘see’ Jesus.

Ash Wednesday and the Lenten Season. What is it really about?

What is Ash Wednesday? It is approximately 40 days before Easter (not including Sundays) and it is the start of the Lenten season. Some Christian faiths receive ashes upon their forehead (in the shape of a cross) as a reminder of our mortality, sorrow for sins, change and forgiveness. Lent then is when we are supposed to look at our relationship with God and see what behaviors we are engaging in that keep us from going deeper with that relationship and/or even having a relationship with God. When reading up on Ash Wednesday and the Lenten season, I would guess most of us do not realize all the 'traditions, rules and regulations' that religion has decided to throw upon this. I am not sure if this is why people have made their 'sacrifice' superficial or that we are just truly uneducated on what the Lenten season means. I highly doubt that 'giving-up' chocolate constitutes a 'true' sacrifice. Unless that is, chocolate holds you back from your relationship from God. I guess we can justify anything these days.

The 40 days of Lent can also be symbolic for the 40 days Christ was out in the wilderness/dessert. These 40 days for us is to be like our dessert: where we are to look to God. Go back to God and remember what it is like to fully trust in the Creator. It is a time for us to change. You may hear the words 'repent.' The meaning of Repent has changed from its original meaning in the Bible. These days’ people say repent and there is a connotation of sinfulness, shaming and unworthiness. Repent isn't just feeling bad for what one has done. Repent means to change direction. Literally change the way we are heading. It means to stop and go a different direction. In more practical terms it means changing the mind, changing the way you feel and changing your behavior. Repent does not mean feeling ashamed. Repent does not mean feeling bad about something and asking forgiveness and then continuing with the same behavior. Repent means change. Change the way you think, change the way you feel and change the way you behave. When you do this, the way you perceive the world also changes.

How does this happen? There are many theories. Read, study, pray etc. The best way to change is to actually start out by just doing the desired behavior over and over. Or for some of us, like myself, restricting that behavior. Eventually, we learn how to behave and the mind will follow. The change in behavior may not feel normal. We may not even know when we are engaged in the behavior we are trying to change, so becoming conscious when we are engaged in the behavior is the first step. It takes time: lots and lots of time. Once we are aware of our behavior, then we can stop it as we are engaged in it. Once we have mastered that, then we can anticipate when we will engage in that behavior and then stop it before it starts. This all sounds familiar to many who have had any course in psychology.

Those behaviors we ‘sacrifice’ for lent are to draw us closer to God. My guess is that many of the behaviors we have become accustomed to ‘sacrificing’ are for our own personal superficial benefit. Cutting out chocolate, alcohol, carbs, are all common ‘sacrifices’ we hear about people giving up. What is our true motivation for giving these up? Is it that they keep us from God? Or is Lent a convienient time for us to focus on bettering ourselves before spring break and summer vacations? My thought is that it is more for our own benefit than deepening our relationship with God. If it is about God, why are we so eager to resume those behaviors on Easter? If we were truly refocusing on God and those things that keep us away from Him, wouldn’t we want to continue with the absence of those behaviors that kept us from Him in the first place? What we forget is that when we truly engaged in the purpose of the Lenten season, God, it does benefit us. The benefit is more than we want it to be (superficial). The benefit is so much deeper and valuable than what we can imagine.

We also have to be extra careful to not replace the behavior we just ‘gave-up’ with another behavior that keeps us away from God. For example, many give-up social media networks for 40 days. Personally, I think that is amazing. But I caution, what are you doing instead of checking your FB accounts? Are you then using that time to watch TV? Read a book? What behavior can you replace it with that will draw you deeper into your relationship with God?

For me, I have contemplated what I was going to do for Lent. I have been struggling. I have been trying to be honest with what is keeping me from God. The saddest part is there are MANY behaviors or lack of behaviors that I can choose from. All I know today, Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent, that I need to look to God to help and guide me. As of now, my Lenten ‘sacrifice,’ if you can call it that, it to take an hour a day Monday-Saturday to pray, meditate and/or contemplate with God. I will begin the practice of clearing my mind and try to ‘just be’ with the Creator for an hour a day. Then I will journal that experience. I am interested to see what happens. I love to be busy, so ‘just being’ will take lots of practice. There is always something that will try to draw me away from this time with God. I will need to be cautious, because something disguised as righteous may appear and I will be drawn to focus on that instead of my time with God. I will post my daily writings on a weekly basis. I will stay true to what I write during those times. I am excited and anxious at the same time.

 If you partake in the Lenten season, I encourage you to go deeper this year. I encourage you to look at what is holding you back from God. Is it a behavior you do or not do that keeps you from developing a relationship or going deeper into a relationship with God? I encourage you not to engage in the ‘superficial sacrifices’ the world has asked us to do. We are not apart of the world. We are to be so much more and to do so much more.

Love lost in translation

Years ago, I had heard that the Inuit Indians (Eskimo) have many words for snow. Each word encompasses the essence of the frozen stuff. In English, we use an adjective in front of the word snow to describe it. For example, wet snow, dry snow, powdery snow, icy snow, packing snow etc. Some words just cannot be translated into English without using adjectives to capture the meaning of the word. Some words simply loose their multiple meanings or dimensions all together and thus the ‘true meaning’ of the word gets lost in the translation. When we read the translated version of a text it makes a little sense, but we find it hard to comprehend or grasp the concept.

This is true for the word LOVE and its translation in the Bible. In the Greek language there are no less than five words to our one English word for LOVE. Each of the Greek words encompasses a different essence of the word love. Over the years, when we (Americans-that’s all I can speak for) use the word love we primarily think and know it as a feeling. As many of us have experienced in our lives, love can and does mean more than a feeling. Somewhere over the past two thousand years the multifaceted phenomenon love has lost its translation from the early languages into English. Eros is the Greek word in which our English word erotic derives from. Obviously, this means feelings based upon sexual attraction, desire and craving. The second Greek word for love, storgé, means affection, especially between and toward family members. Interestingly enough, neither eros nor storgé appear in New Testament writings.  Another Greek word for love is philos. The name for the city of Philadelphia is rooted in this Greek word, which means brotherly, reciprocal love. The ‘you do good to me and I will do good to you,’ kind of love.

The final word used by the ancient Greeks to describe love is the most interesting and by far the most under used and/or understood form of love. This word is agapé and it corresponds with the verb agapaó. This is an unconditional love that is based in behavior toward others without regard to their behavior. This type of love, agapé, is the love of deliberate behavior and choice, not a love of feeling. “Agapé is something of the understanding, creative, redemptive goodwill for all men. It is a love that seeks nothing in return. It is an overflowing love; it’s when what theologians call the love of God working in the lives of men. And when you rise to love on this level, you begin to love men, not because they are likeable, but because God loves them. You look at every man, and you love them because you know God loves him. And he may be the worst person you’ve ever seen.” (Martin Luther King Jr., Loving Your Enemies, Nov. 17, 1957).

“Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them that despitefully use you.” (Matthew 5). These are the words spoken by Jesus. We have heard and read this through the years and my guess is that most of us are dumbfounded because we can’t possibly comprehend loving someone who oppresses, murders, tortures, abuses, neglects, or hates us, or anyone we love. How can we love someone who has harmed us? Is Jesus really commanding me to love someone who makes my stomach go into knots or terrifies me? Or is the love Jesus is commanding us to ‘do’ something other than what we know as love; and it too was lost in translation? 

Let’s explore agapé love a little further, “Because Jesus wasn’t playing; because he was serious. We have the Christian and moral responsibility to seek and discover the meaning of these words, and to discover how we can live out this command and why we should live by this command.” (Martin Luther King Jr., Loving Your Enemies, Nov. 17, 1957). Martin Luther King Jr. does an incredible job explaining how and why we must learn this kind of love. It is agapé love that will save humankind and the world.

How do we learn to love like this agapé love? It is NOT easy. It is something we need to teach ourselves and consciously practice. First, one must look inward at one’s self. This is probably the hardest thing to do. We must analyze whether the ‘hate’ response from an individual towards us is of various jealous reactions and/or other emotions that are prevalent in our human nature, OR is it something we have done to them in the past. Looking inward, we must also consider where we ‘fit’ in this world. What role in society are we apart of? Do people in other countries, cultures etc harbor hatred toward us? Why do people of various religious groups have hatred toward one another? If one is completely honest in this first step of learning to love on this level, you will find that the dislike and hate are reactions to something we have done directly as individuals or indirectly because we are apart of a group. That’s a little hard to swallow! Some of our associations are so far removed that we do not consider them relevant. Whether we are aware or unaware of our actions that have elicited an individual or group of people to react in such a way, we need to put ourselves in their place and decide how we would feel.

Why should we do this? Dislike begets dislike. Hate begets hate. Hating for hating sake just increases hatred in the world. If we hate you because of something that happened and we don’t look inwardly at why, chances are you hate us. Real world examples are abound. Just look at our relationships with other countries. Look at the Middle East and the continual and cyclical killing of people. You bomb us and killed people, so we retaliate. People are killed in the retaliation. People lose family members. Deep hurt takes root. Hate ‘blinds’ people to the ‘real’ reasons that caused the initial hurt. When people are infused in hate they cannot behave correctly. Unborn generations are taught about hateful behaviors and the cycle continues.

Someone has to have sense enough to stop the hate. Jesus is that someone and He is telling us to stop the hate. HE tells us we must love our enemies. If you are hated, then you stop the cycle where it is. You look inward and ask why. You take your enemies point of view. Ask yourself would you hate you if this happened to you? Would you hate you if this happened to your family? Then you do all you can possibly do to stop the cycle. You have to, because Jesus commands us to.

What if the hate has nothing to do with anything you have done or any association you have? There are people that are filled with hate. As Christians we must remember that ALL humans are made in the image of God. This does not mean a select few. That means that somewhere there is something about this person who hates that is good. We search for that goodness. We look hard to find that goodness and we love that goodness because that goodness is from God. We love God, so we love the hater. We do not love the hate, but we love the person who hates.

Agapé love is an action or a doing. A verb. It is a behavior and a choice on how to behave towards others. A quote I have had up on the computer screen for years is, “all that is needed for evil to succeed is, that decent human beings do nothing,” (Edmund Burke). Edmund Burke said this after taking German citizens into concentration camps after World War II. Many of us, I included; find it hard to stand up for what is right. We allow unjust things to happen to the innocent. We don’t want to get involved because it is not affecting us, or at least it is not affecting us directly. “…non-cooperation with evil is as much a moral obligation as is cooperation with good.” (Martin Luther King Jr., Loving your enemies, Nov. 17, 1957).

Do I believe this is easy and there is no risk for physical, emotional or mental danger? Am I advocating violence? Absolutely not. Christians are called to something much higher than saving our physical selves. We are called to act as the world does not act. We are called to love those who hate. We are called to take action against hateful acts. We are called to stand up for those who cannot stand up for themselves. Not because we ourselves are good, but because God is good; and because Jesus showed us how to love this way and he commands us to. Hate tears down. Love builds up. Love is a power that can redeem and transform. The cycle of hatred and violence has to stop. Christians are Christian not because Jesus was born or crucified. We are Christian because Jesus left the tomb. He IS risen. As such our perspective on the world is radical and completely different than the world’s. Jesus IS risen! That means we need not fear physical, emotional or mental outcomes when we love as Jesus taught us to love.