Comfortably Uncomfortable

Brad and I have been working hard to pay down debt and really work on a budget. It's going well and we've tackled a lot that makes each month easier to enjoy. We set aside 10% and put it in our giving fund so that if we find someone or some cause that has a need, no problem, just give! It's great and really freeing...and then it's not.

The more I give, the harder it is to pass someone who needs something and not feel like I could do more. Last Sunday, I was getting a treat. Brad decided to take the boys out for a movie which meant I had at least the next two and a half hours to myself. I sat down and watched mindless TV. I picked the house up a bit and it stayed that way, and I decided to treat myself to a Target run. It was a rainy Sunday and I think everyone had run to Target just to have something to do.

That's when I saw him. Wearing a coat that wasn't keeping off much rain, and sharing a sign that said, "1 wife, 2 kids. No money for the bills." And I started to think, "God, why do you do this to me?" Here I was just trying to have a relaxing, carefree time without my kids and now I've got to decide if I think this man is worthy of my money. We have all been there. What if they just use the cash for booze and cigarettes? Why hasn't this person gone through the vast assortment of helplines our city offers? Why do I have to make this decision?

See, I'm a Christ-follower and these questions always cross my mind but almost in a nano-second the words from Jesus also flood my brain, "Truly I tell you, whatever you did for the least of these, you did for me." And then I look ahead at all the people heading into Target to spend endless dollars on the dollar bin, a Starbucks drink, and many things that were not a need but a want. Heck, that was what I was going in for, just a want, because I can, I have no worries if my bills will get paid this month. And that's when I realized, if the man was still there, I had to just err on the side of love. I didn't have a lot of cash but I had $10. I will admit I spent much more than that in Target and didn't bat an eye.

I've had these same predicaments a lot lately. I see a lot of patients that are homeless and when you hear there stories, there's just so much hurt. Even the ones who do drugs and booze, there's a child of God under all the substances. When we went to San Francisco and the beggars on the street were everywhere, it was almost paralyzing. The least of these keep showing up in my comfortable life and making me uncomfortable. I could choose to ignore them, but I can't. I just don't see anywhere in scripture that makes it clear to leave these people behind. In fact, I think the disciples were probably uncomfortable all the time with this Jesus. He would stop for lepers and prostitutes. He would tell stories about those that society left behind. He's changed me. And as much as I don't like it, handing that man $10 and praying for him as I drove away through the murky afternoon, made me realize that maybe he wasn't going to use that money for good, but maybe Jesus could use that money through him to do something good. That was my prayer.

These next few weeks are particularly hard for me because the American expectation is to spend, spend, spend. I like to do it too because I'm buying for other people and it makes me feel good. But I know that none of my people are truly in need. And when I think of all those that just want a warm place to sleep or socks that cover their feet, I can't help but feel guilty. That's the other emotion that isn't fun to experience. I work hard to have the money I have, but if I tell the truth to myself, I have more than I need and there's a bit more to go around. I'm living a comfortably uncomfortable life. It's the life that devoting myself to Christ has prompted me into. So you can call me naive or think it's stupid for me to give the bum a buck, but I challenge you to take a little and figure out how that little could go a long way. And maybe more of a challenge, look someone in the face and give them a little of your time and money. Tip that waitress a hefty $50 and leave a note saying, "hoping this helps with your holiday!" We do this around Christmas every year and I love watching the reactions! Because when you do onto the least of these and see how proud you've made God, it's hard not to feel the glory of the kingdom here on Earth! Living the comfortably uncomfortable life isn't easy but it's clear that my uncomfortable-ness is nothing compared to the plight of some of my brothers and sisters in this world. So, I'm just getting more comfortable with being uncomfortable!

Stealing Skittles and Keeping Curfew

First let me set the stage of this past weekend. Potty training child #2, the free-thinker, the whimsical, carefree kid who could poop in his pants until age 30 and probably not care. We tried to build it up as this great feat that would be rewarded by precious and indulgent amounts of Skittles. He didn’t care. He’s a bit like that Youtube video about the Honey Badger. What we didn’t factor in was that child #1 couldn’t wrap his head around not getting rewarded for his bathroom accomplishments. The Skittles became a forbidden fruit, only allowed to be eaten if you were new on the underwear scene. And of course, it wasn’t fair!

Child #1 has started his sneaky phase recently. He will do something he knows he’s shouldn’t, then quickly tell us he’s sorry before admitting the wrong-doing. I must admit, I’m impress he’s mastered this skill at such an early age. He’s also like an addict when it comes to candy and goes out of his way to get his loot. So it came as no surprise Saturday night as I stepped out of a much needed shower (potty training is not so cleanly) that I heard Brad bellow below, “What were you just eating?!?” I knew it was the Skittles. The kid had eyed them all day, and to be honest, I was surprised it had taken him that long to get them off the counter and into his mouth.

As I came downstairs, I could hear the battles of wills still taking place. Father versus son in a “what is right” and “what is wrong” clash. For a moment, I was glad it wasn’t me this time with the voice elevated and for a moment I also thought the raised voice might be the approach to take with the situation. If this child knew how mad and disappointed I was with him, surely he would understand that next time I would be just as disappointed. But sometimes Grace swoops in and gives you some clarity on the matter at hand.

As I saw my son crying and truly upset because he got caught, my mind quickly fast-forwarded to conversations we have yet to have, to levels of trust we have yet to instill. I saw a 16- or 17-year-old version of this child racing home along the winding roads of Chattanooga at top speed trying to make curfew so he didn’t have to tell us he wasn’t paying attention to time or he wasn’t doing what he was suppose to. I have heard the horror stories where things like this end in tragedy, all for the sake of rules and with no thought to the value of a child being honest. It was that vision that made me realize that more than anything, I want my kids to know that I value the truth. Their admittance to the mistake is what I am asking and the consequences will be dealt out as necessary. But in this moment I wanted him to know that it was his truth that mattered most.

He’s going to make mistakes in this life, I can’t prevent that. But I want to be the one who he comes to to help him problem solve the huge things. I want him to know that when there’s something big, like he’s depressed or he’s questioning his sexuality, that I value knowing that and I want to be a confidante in that moment. I want him to feel like when he’s made a mistake, he will face consequences but I don’t love him any less for it. And this goes for both my boys. #1 and #2 will come from the same starting points but their paths will look so different and there is no cookie-cutter response to any given problem. I also am not delusional enough to believe that I am going to know everything and every struggle my children will face. I just want to keep that pathway available so they never feel that they've got no way to be honest with me. 

Parenting is tough and the decisions we make in these early stages set a foundation for many years to come. I don't take this task likely, but I also don't take myself too seriously because I'm not going to have these graceful moments too often. However, I'll count this one as a gift, as insight, and as an example of the parent I would like to be even when I'm up to my eyeballs in potty-training and Skittles stealing!

Christmas Cookies and Holiday Hearts (and songs on the radio)

That was a title of a Christmas song we sang in elementary school. I can still sing all of the tunes we belted out before our admiring parents and grandparents at the yearly Christmas program at my (gasp!) public school. I love Christmas and all that it symbolizes: the family getting together, exchanging gifts with those you love, celebrating the birth of Christ. Christmas has always been my favorite holiday because it always felt like the world had a little more joy and togetherness. Was that true or was I in a childhood stupor that only let me see the wonders while my parents fretted about all that had to be done? 

I realize Christmas has taken on a whole new meaning these days. I saw decorations in stores in July! And this ploy is only to make money, the absolute contradiction to the true meaning, yet we can’t seem to pull ourselves away from the Black Friday sales or the Amazon deals. There’s nothing stopping us from a simplified Christmas, but we choose to ignore that call from our conscious and keep the blinders on to keep up with the Joneses. I admit I fall right in this whirlwind of "have to get" when really we all know we just ask for the things we want, someone buys those exact things, we ask what they want, and repeat with everyone in your family. Who has time to figure out a gift?!? Brad jokes, "We should all sit down at a table and exchange the amount of money...just pass $25 to the left!" Okay, I'm stopping this train of thought right now. This is a blog post in another blog post. 

But back to that Christmas music or the start of this Christmas season. I’m a strong proponent for the start of holiday tunes, and let me tell you the reason why. A long time ago when I was a distraught freshman at Duke University, a thousand miles from home, failing my Calculus course with flying colors, feeling like a speck in this great big world, the end of the semester looming and one brave radio station in the Raleigh-Durham area decided to play Christmas music starting November 1^st. I was sad and scared because I really didn’t want to fail Calculus and start my college career with an F on the grade-point average. But then these familiar tunes that brought up my most beloved memories from childhood started playing on the radio and the reminder that this too was going to pass and I would be home enjoying my Christmas with my family gave me some solace to those awful cramming sessions.

Daily, from November 1^st until I took that wretched final in calculus (the very last exam given during the exam week, thanks Duke!), I would get in my car, turn to that radio station and find home again. That was a big deal when you are literally the new kid on campus and are surrounded by geniuses who were basically taking the Calculus course for an easy A.  And when it was finally the week after Thanksgiving, I would still get in my car and listen to Bing Crosby’s White Christmas while traveling into subdivisions looking for Christmas lights.

So to all you nay-sayers who hate that Christmas is just too early, I agree...to a point. Sometimes Christmas music being played is more than just a tactic to ramp up the economy, sometimes it is someone’s saving grace, sometimes it is where that little lost soul feels home again. So don’t look at me funny when I pull up next to you singing God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen (Barenaked Ladies version, of course). Just know that my soul is comforted by these songs and memories and it pushes me forward to create memories, not gifts or cheapened versions of the true essence of a manger with a baby who would rock this world’s socks off. It stirs the creative juices of my parenting trying to figure out how to create these memories for my kids. So I’m not judging the Christmas music, I’m singing right along! 

Bad Days

You know that song, the one that I will now have stuck in your head for the rest of the day? “You had a bad day, you’re taking one down, you sing a sad song, just to turn it around…” Yep. That’s the one! Today feels like a bad day. My children didn’t want to get out of bed this morning, or dressed, or eat. And maybe they sensed that this would be a day to just ride it out at home.

It didn’t get better as I drove to work. The rain started before daybreak this morning and people apparently took the opportunity to test out their NASCAR driving skills through slick conditions. As I neared the main road into work, the red tail lights blazed. Stuck. I listened to the radio, figuring that if I was going to sit in a standstill, I was going to live it up! Then I heard the sirens, first an ambulance, then a fire truck, then a rescue squad SUV. Maybe it was the sirens that finally snapped me out of my disgruntled mood. Someone up ahead had a morning that they didn’t intend to have. Someone up ahead could have just experienced a life changing event. Here I was, a bit inconvenienced by this time in traffic but someone else was having a “real” bad day.

It got me thinking. Bad days are like mini trips down the depression path. They can gang up on us and make us feel like we are going through some really crappy stuff, and sometimes we are. But then sometimes we just need some perspective. Today seemed like a bad day to me, but I also learned that a friend from college was going to court to find out if the two sweet babies she and her husband have been raising are going back to their biological family. Another friend was sitting in a hospital not being able to eat, suffering because a medicine that was suppose to help her chronic illness went awry and was causing an acute infection. And then I passed the accident scene that I was slowly creeping toward, and saw the car top sawed off by the jaws of life and 10 paramedics lifting a board to a gurney on the road. Bad day perspective was starting to enlighten me.

My family has been through some bad days lately. It’s not that we should always have this perspective of “someone always has it worse” and if I hear one more person say, “God never gives us more than we can handle.” I’m going to scream. Because the truth is, some people get a whole lot more than they can handle every day. They sometimes get the top layer of junk removed only to have another load dumped on them within a few moments. God gave us hope, perspective, and he also gives us moments to draw joy from. Those are times of grace, those are gifts that we are to unwrap in the hardest times. And hard times are common. We have been studying Ann Voskamp’s 1000 Gifts at church and it takes this stance that we all have some hard life to go through, each in his or her own way, but if we can be thankful and see the small bits of hope in the dark times, it allows us to enjoy the truly good times where we can throw those cares away and just full-out live.

As we were talking about this grace in even the bad days, I realized that when I have been at my worst, I’ve been only able to see the bad stuff and fantasize about someone else’s seemingly perfect life. The bad seemed to generate more bad, and it was always hard to gain any perspective. That’s why it’s so essential to see the amazing little moments that make up this wild, crazy world. God gives us the ability to gain some perspective if we live it daily. If we are in the practice of noticing and being thankful for the little things: our children’s health, our full refrigerators, a warm embrace by someone who loves us just the way we are, we have the secret to defeat a bad day before it becomes a bad week or bad month or bad year. This is so much harder than just succumbing to the crud that can invade the beauty in a moment, but when we can recognize the sweet parts in the insanity, it doesn’t seem quite so ominous. So today, my goal is to armor myself for the bad days that will surely come, to drink in all the sweetness that life gives to me today, so that darkness cannot be around for too long. Grace in the bad days.