Hold These Truths

I can’t fully express how genuinely sad I am that Amendment One passed. I knew it would; it wasn’t a surprise and yet my heart aches and I can’t stop thinking about it.  I love Jesus. I don’t think that is a surprise to anyone who reads this. I love Jesus passionately and I like to believe this love translates over all the areas of my life, whether it is immediately evident or not (I’m looking at you, cursing problem). My relationship with Jesus is the most important personal relationship I have. 

And so it is physically painful to see the God I know to be unceasing in love and grace and mercy affixed to a battering ram of hate and judgment and condemnation. The truth gets high jacked and comes back a funhouse mirror version of itself. I think of all those who are turned away from the love that I so personally need and I want to weep. I wouldn’t want to know a God who acts like that. 

And so I speak these truths, to anyone who is listening:

•  You are so dearly loved, exactly where you are.
• You are beautifully and wonderfully made.  You were knit together in love and you matter.
• Mercy casts out judgment.
• Nothing can separate you from the love of God in Christ Jesus. Not the past or the present, not the right or the left, not your orientation or your family, not your highest highs or your lowest lows, not popularity contests, not shame, not Facebook statuses, not Christians, not your best day or your worst night, not your secrets, not addictions, not failure; not fear. Nothing can separate you from the love of God.

Love.
Joy.
Peace.
Patience.
Kindness.
Goodness.
Gentleness.
 Faithfulness.
Self-control.

The writer of Galatians calls these the fruits of the Spirit. These are the traits of someone with in whom God resides, because they are the traits of God. Hold fast to this truth. Please.

I've written about this before here and here and probably elsewhere I just don't have time to look it up.

Be Thou My Vision

I woke with Ecclesiastes 3:11 in my head this morning.

“God makes everything beautiful in his time,” my brain hummed as I boiled the water for my coffee.
“God makes everything beautiful in his time,” my heart sang as I padded around in my bathrobe, my hair still wet from the shower.

“God makes everything beautiful in his time,” my heart hoped as I tied my shoes and grabbed the leash.

It's a big day in NC. The state is voting on Amendment One, a proposed addition to our Constitution that would give a very rigid definition of marriage and the benefits associated with it. Not to get too detailed, but the amendment would harm the medical and end of life rights of both straight and gay unmarried couples and their children, along with several other benefits we currently hold as self-evident. It's a shameful bit of legislation, and most polls show it passing.

And so it's a sad day too.

A clear sense of right and wrong is in the midst of the issue, but just as it is clear—obvious—it's clear—transparent. I'm learning that issues of right and wrong aren't what we see, they are what we see through, saying as much about us as they do about the topic at hand. They are lenses. Lenses change our vision. Lenses can bring clarity or they can make us blind. It's our choice.

“Without vision, the people perish,” Proverbs 29:18 says.

And so I pray to keep my vision. I keep looking, lift my eyes to the hills with the confident expectation that my own lenses will change, but that my vision will remain.

Today, I believe my vote is right. Right in the context of history, right in the context of scripture, right in the context of who I know God to be, right for the people of North Carolina.

And I believe, no matter the outcome, that all things will be made beautiful in God's time. 

Unfriending

A Facebook 'friend' (I always use that term loosely, for I have several people on Facebook that I've only met once or twice in real life) posted this article the other day, and since then I haven't stopped thinking about it.

Female Friendship: Ack, My Friend Dumped Me

It's about being dumped by a friend, something I think most people have experienced at least once in their life. I know I've been dumped before, and I've done the dumping. 

I don't suppose it's ever easy, fun or clear cut. I don't think I've had a friendship break up over a specific fight, or one that ended with a conversation about why it should end. It's been the quiet distancing that does it. The unreturned calls or emails, the invitations that go unanswered, the life that gets in the way of a friendship. Resentments that start as itches and become deep wounds. 

And sometimes I wish there was an exit interview for friendships, a way to find out what I did wrong so I won't do it again, or I can work to repair it. But there never is an exit interview, is there? Things just end. 

In the age of social media, we have the 'unfriending' process, as if disconnecting with someone online is the same as it happening in real life, like those bonds don't still continue even if we no longer care to acknowledge them. What a strange idea, to unfriend. It makes the process of disconnection sound so clear cut. It rarely is. 

The Symbol of What Once

I'm in San Antonio for work. I've been traveling a lot lately, with so, SO much more to come.
I had a pretty good day. Work went well. It was 14 hours, but it ended on a high note and I was feeling good.

I got back to my hotel room and decided I'd put on a few tunes while I got ready for bed.
I reached for my ipod in my purse.
Not there.
I searched my roller bag. All five pockets. I dumped it out.
Not there.
I searched my suitcase, dumping all my freshly folded clothes onto my bed.
Not there.
I searched my office.
Not there.
I went to the conseirge desk.
Not there.
I double checked everything, everywhere, every drawer, every folder, every ever.

I began to cry. Not just cry, but hyperventilate. Break down and can't breathe cry. Need-to-get-back-to-my-room-before-I-scare-the-other-elevator-patrons sort of cry. Can't control it cry. I've never reacted to the loss of an object that way. I've lost cell phones, wallets, cameras, computers--no reaction even close to this.

This iPod was given to me in November of 2007. I was unemployed, single, broke and discouraged. When my car was broken into and my old iPod stolen I was fully ready to give up on life.
I did what I'd always done in those situations--I called Natalie. Through a gracious few steps (and completely unprompted), she and her husband Mike surprised me with a new iPod, complete with the engraving, "Jesus loves you. Thou Shall Not Steal" as a joke on the back.

Since the day I got it, that iPod has meant more to me than as a simple mp3 player. It is a symbol of being loved, of specific care, of mattering. And since her death it's taken on a more serious meaning; it's a reminder. It's like her heart still beats as long as I have it; she's still with me. She's there with me in every song, ever new playlist. Losing it felt like her dying all over again. I can't believe how it hit me. I realized tonight I would run back in to a burning building for a nearly five-year old iPod because of what it represents. I realize that is irrational, but rationality has never made truth any less true.

I found the iPod. It wasn't lost. And yet an hour after its return I still had difficulty calming down. I lived Nat's loss and death all over again and it simply doesn't stop just because the catalyst stopped. I was completely blindsided by the whole event; it felt like I got jumped by grief, a gang of thugs hiding in my darkened hotel room.

I plugged in my headphones into my iPod and put on Mindy Smith's "One Moment More" album, one of Nat's favorites. I sat with my irregular breathing and puffy eyes and listened and I missed her more than I had in months, her heartbeat sounding the bass drum, the keys, the guitar. My heartbeat slowed and sang along.

The Season Had Changed

Lately…

• I’ve been wondering where my spiritual home is. It’s a good thing to wonder about; good to openly seek a place in which to grow and be challenged. Last week I had the chance to sit down with my pastors over wine and discuss theology, scripture, what church is and why it’s important. I adore conversations like that. I wish I had more of them. I left more in love with those women than I was when it started, and yet still unsure of what I do next. Trying to be open to anything. May the courage of my convictions supersede the cowardly ease of my familiarity.
• I flew to Florida for a weekend with Erin. It was a lot of travel and a lot of money, but seeing the familiar is a necessary tonic. I love those friendships that have survived so much, that have that ease of conversation. It’s like being tuned back to the note at which I sing best.
• I’ve been a bit obsessed with Balmorhea, an Austin-based instrumental ensemble. Their 2008 album, Rivers Arms, has been on repeat for a few weeks; I haven’t yet found a place where it didn’t fit. “Baleen Morning” and “The Winter” just slay me. Highly recommended. I’ve not been one who was particularly drawn to instrumentals. Now I’m finding myself collecting more and more of them.


• This morning my windshield was covered in pollen and I scratched my itchy eyes and knew the season had changed.
• I’ve reconnected with my best friend from high school. She has been married for ten years and has three kids; I have a dog. Somehow we still have so much to talk about. There’s hope.
• I had a dream that a flock (gaggle? Posse?) of ducks had imprinted on me. They followed me around—about 20 of them, of all ages—and I was stressed because I knew they needed to get to water and I didn’t know where water was. I finally did find still water and I was so relieved. I discovered that it was saline, but it was too late. The ducks turned away from me. I awoke ashamed.
• The puppies will turn a year old this weekend. I live each day with that confidant expectation that I’ll never have to go through that again and I’m relieved. I’ll love them forever, but what an incredibly difficult time.
• My boss and I were talking about logic puzzles and now I can’t stop doing them. I love how clear cut they are. I love that there is only one right answer and that I can get there using what’s in front of me. I’m sure that sentiment is true in other areas of my life.
• I really loved “The Hunger Games” movie. I thought they did a great job interpreting the book. Odd to see places I know to be calming shown on the big screen (it was filmed outside of Asheville, much of it in Dupont State Forest) serving as the backdrop to a story so dark.
• “New Girl” is hilarious. I gave up on “Glee” months ago. I’m still scared to turn on my TV, so thank god for Hulu.