Contradictions...and conversation starters

So I received this e-mail the other day with a series of pictures of babies (adorable, I might add), each with a meaningful quote. Some were quite interesting, thought provoking and uplifting.

However, something disturbed me about it...the obvious contradiction between these two, which were adjacent to each other in the e-mail just as they are here:

Your mind is like a parachute, it functions only when open.

The 10 commandments are not multiple choice.

Any thoughts?

I am not your friend anymore.

One of my sons is in middle school, and one of the most common phrases I hear from him and his friends is "I am not your friend anymore". Usually this is the result of a disagreement, and because children live in the moment, any conflict typically seems entirely unresolvable. At least in the moment. A few days or a week later, they will forget the argument and be friends again like nothing ever happened. Kids are resilient.

Some days I wish adults could learn to live in the moment as children do, to be resilient from hurts and anger. Sometimes I wonder if this isn't what Jesus meant when he said "come as little children". For too often we harbor grudges, we suffer bitterness and hold anger in.

This could be applied to many of us, in many situations, but the one closest to my heart has to do with those of us who leave church.

A recent conversation resulted in this statement from my friend Valarosa:

"It is odd that the people you meet and only know from church do not stay friends with you if you leave it."

Susan made an excellent point today, as well. She says:

"Just another perspective. I've been in churches where people have left and I have felt too hurt to get in touch with them. I have taken their leaving personally and felt like they were rejecting me."

We are hurt, and we walk away. Often, in silence. I know I did. I didn't tell anyone I was leaving, and when I was gone, scarcely anyone noticed. Or at least, did not let on that they noticed. It's a complicated scenario, ripe with misunderstandings. When we walk out the door of our church, so often it is assumed we are also walking away from our relationships there. Yet, so often we assume that our walking away means we are no longer worthy of our relationships there. See the problem?

Church-leaving usually results in some degree of "I am not your friend anymore", but so often that is based on differences in perspective and misunderstanding. When I left, I expected that if people really cared about me, they would call or otherwise reach out to me. However, those same people assumed that if I left the church I was also leaving them. This resulted in my belief that these people felt if I wasn't going to church I was no longer worthy of their friendship. They believed that I felt if they WERE going to church, they were not longer worthy of MY friendship. And due to a lack of communication, those beliefs stood.

Now, in my personal situation, there were several other factors to my leaving and to the loss of some relationships, so I'm not claiming that if we had just clarified this one misunderstanding, all would be well. However, I can't help but wonder if it could have made a difference. So often when we are hurting (myself included, for sure) we make assumptions about how other people feel, doing a disservice to ourselves as well as others. I wonder how many relationships were lost due simply to misunderstanding and not due to any one person's desire to actually end the friendship?

I'm not certain I have any answers, at least not for anyone else. I'm just wondering, about this, and am interested in your thoughts, especially those of you who have left church situations, resulting in the loss of relationships.

Demo-licious

In recent weeks, we had begun to seriously wonder about the health and wellness of our kitchen floor. We were worried that it might be having some serious structural and/or other issues; it was uneven and discolored. Likewise we have been having some issues with leakage under our kitchen sink, which was no longer easily remedied with duct tape, and resulting water damage.

So it was time to bring out the big guns. We knew we needed to get into our floor and find out what was going on, and to do some plumbing to resolve the leaky problems as well. Randy and I are both seriously home-maintenance illiterate and don't trust ourselves to delve into these kinds of things. The husband of a good friend of is a contractor and skilled carpenter, so we have enlisted his assistance in getting this all done properly.

Prologue Phase: Windows

This took place a few weeks ago, where we chucked the original 1970 aluminum windows and, through the efforts of our friend, traded them for much more modern vinyl in the kitchen. We have been concerned for years about the lack of energy-efficiency of the old windows, and needed to do something about it. This step in and of itself, has been an amazing transformation; but I'm sure we'll really notice it when the frigid east wind kicks in, about a month from now, and no longer blows the curtains.

On Saturday, the real archeology began, and Phase I ended today. Here I'm going to share some information documenting our journey through...

Phase I: Demolition

(all photos taken with my cell phone in poor lighting)

This was the top (most recent) layer:
White vinyl with medium blue diamonds.
It was here when we bought the house about 10 years ago.

Second layer: pale blue and white speckled, with white flowers.
Probably circa 1988-1990.
Hardly different from the top layer; not sure why they changed it.

Third layer: Surprise!
Plywood with a healthy coating of black mold.
Just lovely. Cough, cough.

Fourth layer: orange and white vinyl with sunshines.
Isn't it wonderfully retro? Ca. 1978 or so.

Fifth layer: Brownish, beige-ish, pebble-ish pattern.
Presumably original with the house, ca. 1970.

Today, the kitchen floor is naked plywood. It's wonderful, and beautiful, but now we have about a 2-inch step down into the kitchen. Funny how some archeology will do that! We also now have a refrigerator, microwave and much of the rest of the kitchen (i.e. dishes, utensils, etc.) in the living room. I do still have a dishwasher installed and operational, but that will change next weekend.

Today, cooperatively, the kitchen faucet gave up the ghost and began leaking lakes both at countertop level and beneath. So doing dishes is still an issue, considering we have no water to the kitchen sink nor faucet with which to serve it up. Fortunately we have a decent dishwasher and can actually put dirty dishes in it without pre-rinsing.

Be watching this space at the end of next weekend for a report on "Phase II: Reconstruction". We (well, our friend, with unskilled but well-intentioned help from us) will be installing tile on the floor. He will receive a special thank-you and some free advertising in this space when all is said and done.

Later, "Phase III: The Rest Of It" will be undertaken. Painting the cabinets and other adventures.

I Kissed A Girl

Well, that got your attention, didn't it? Yeah, I double-dog dare you to skim my blog in a feedreader.

OK, so the title of this post wasn't deceitful. You see, there's this song by Katy Perry. The title, and punchline, is "I kissed a girl, and I liked it...". If you haven't heard the song, you've been living in a hole, or at least you haven't listened to pop radio in the last few months. Yep, it went to #1 here in the states. However, for anyone who might be inclined to think this is simply American stupidity, it was also #1 in Canada, the UK, New Zealand, and Australia. So there.

The song is a lighthearted look at a woman having a same-sex encounter, on a whim. The song is catchy and upbeat, and very sing-able and dance-able, hence it's popularity.

Liberals say this song is taking a serious and personal subject and makes light of it. Conservatives, well you can imagine what they think. Many men secretly love it, because the idea turns them on. Everyone has an opinion. Me, I play it really loud in my car and lip sync to it; God's honest truth. I'm a rebel.

It should be known that Katy is a rebel in her own right. Raised in a conservative Christian home, with both parents serving as ministers, and already having had a Contemporary Christian recording career (under the name Katy Hudson), she has broken all conceivable stereotypes with this song. And I love her for it.

So where was I going with this? Oh, yeah.

Stereotypes are often based on assumptions, and more often than not, wrong assumptions. Stereotypes are human beings' vain and evil attempts to categorize people; as if we have any ability, or right, to do so. I suppose we like things to be organized because then we know what to expect; we will then know who to trust and who is like us, and who is, well, different.

And, according to some people it's absolutely impossible to not be stereotyped; you simply have to be something. Well, I'm here to tell you, the lines are blurring, like it or not. Christian/non-christian. Secular/religious. Conservative/liberal. Who knows where one ends and the other begins?

Some Christians would label me as liberal. Others, as conservative. I happen to refuse to accept any stereotype, thank you very much. I am a stay-home mom and live in suburbia with my husband, 2.5 (well, 2) kids, a dog and two cats. I make cookies and do yard work and scoop dog-doo. I even recycle. I also have a skull tattoo across my back, I wear black nailpolish, I listen to heavy metal and I go to a church where they preach sermons with the words 'fuck' and 'shit' in them. Regularly. Slap a label on me, if you dare.

I'd be willing to bet a few people stereotyped Katy Perry (or is it Hudson?) when they heard this song. A person will wonder, even after multiple listenings: is she poking fun at gays...or at Christians? Neither? Both?

I can hear it now:

She must be gay because, well, she kissed a girl.

She must be a gay-hater because the song is so insultingly humorous.

However...

Katy herself says it's about "the magical beauty of being a woman".

Well, who can object to that?

[chirp, chirp, chirp]

That's what I thought.

See it all stands on where you sit. And some controversies, well, really aren't. And some stereotypes are, well, wrong.

Are there other subjects where we try to create controversy, even when there is none? Are there places where we stereotype and don't realize it?

Poverty

I'm writing this post for Blog Action Day. Thousands of bloggers all around the world will be writing on the subject of poverty. I know October 15th is nearly over for some of you, but here it's only 6 AM, so I'm not tardy.

Please know, first and foremost, this post is not a criticism of any individual or even of any particular church, but rather a criticism of a mentality.

About two weeks ago, several local churches were the subject of an article in the local newspaper about how giving was down in area churches because of the economy. One of those churches is our ex-church. You can read the entire article HERE, but here's an excerpt:

"Standing before his flock, armed with a flip pad and a thick black marker, Jason Albelo, the young jeans-wearing pastor of Gresham's East Hill Church, drew pictures to explain.

"Why the church laid off four workers, including half its youth ministry staff, over the summer. Why Albelo's own father, an East Hill pastor, was taking early retirement. Why the church was closing one of its worship venues and shutting off financial support for a ministers' college."

You might already know that I am not a proponent of any church having oodles of paid staff to begin with, but even more so, I'm not a proponent of a church laying off staff; I think they should be the LAST thing to go, even after the lights go out, in a financially difficult time. I know laying off staff seems like a good business decision, however, this is not a business, this is a church.

So here's problem number one: this church is trying to make a $5.6 million dollar budget balance. They state in the above mentioned article that they are attempting to make up a $400,000 shortfall. All I can think is, with $5.2 million dollars, they can't make up the salaries of four staff members from some other cuts? Seriously? Now, I will say that I have no knowledge of how said staff members feel about losing their jobs. I hope and pray they are happy about it; maybe God has called them on to something else, provided a new opportunity. However, that's not my point; it's the principle of the thing.

So hold that thought for just a minute.

On another note, we have a ministry like HomePDX. If you have read here very long, you have heard me talk about it. The short version is this: HomePDX is a partner ministry with a church called The Bridge. Ken Loyd runs Home for "people who live outdoors," in downtown Portland. Each Sunday, Ken and his team feed these people, his friends. They also provide socks, hand warmers, toiletries, sweatshirts and other items to these people. If you want to know more about this ministry, go to the nav bar at the very tiptop of this page and search HomePDX (no spaces). Or you can do the same at Pam's site. Or better yet, visit their website, linked above.I happen to know, simply because my friends Pam and Donna have been involved with HomePDX from it's inception, that this ministry runs on an extraordinarily meager budget. Here Ken is trying to make the lives of real people better, and yet he gets very little support from area churches. Or should I say, there are a few churches who offer a great deal of support; there are many, many other area churches who offer none.

So back to the issue at hand, and this is where the benefit of the doubt ends, in my opinion. Here I will tell you the reason I cried for over an hour and was entirely hysterical the other night when I originally began writing this post. My husband (don't ask me why) happens to still be on the e-mail list of our ex-church. The other day, he receives an e-mail from this church; if you would like to read the entire message, e-mail me, otherwise, let me quote:

"The completion of Kid City marks the end of Phase I of the Shared Family Experience. Phase II, if you recall, is the redesign of our Early Childhood area and the design work for our high school and middle school environments to match them to the irreducible minimums that we have created for each area.

"To date we have received about $100,000 toward Phase II. That means that we still have about $200,000 more to go. Let me encourage you to join Nikki and me in moving in the opposite spirit and stretching out in this difficult season. Join us in giving beyond the tithe so that we can continue reach future generations"

To clarify, they are remodeling. To the tune of hundreds of thousands of dollars (who knows how much the completed Phase I already cost). I will also add that to the best of my knowledge, it has been 15 years or less since those areas were remodeled. We're not looking at 100-year-old spaces with asbestos tile and fire-hazard wiring. Maybe the carpet is stained, maybe the walls need paint; they simply don't meet the church's current vision of their image. Yet, they are laying off staff in these "hard" times. Need I say more?

As well, a ministry such as HomePDX struggles and scrapes to meet the needs of people who live outdoors. I have no knowledge of whether or not our ex-church has ever contributed to HomePDX, but I would venture a guess they have not. They may have other ministries to the homeless or poor that they fund on some level, but I still can't help but wonder how many people who live outdoors' lives could be bettered (and how many of those staff members could have kept their jobs) if there was no remodeling project going on at this church, or even if it was scaled back substantially.

Let me ask this: should any church, anywhere, ever embark on a remodeling or building project when there are hungry and homeless people in their city? Ever? Should churches meet the building improvement needs of their congregation before they meet the needs of children without winter coats, who live in cars, and only eat because the schools provide free breakfast and lunch to them? Should having state of the art whatnot be more important, under any circumstances, than people who have nowhere to live? And then, should jobs be cut to facilitate the funding of this remodel?

What ever happened to compassion? Are we really, as humanity, that greedy? Do we really that adamantly insist that our churches be so nice inside that we will contribute to this project even when staff is being laid off? Even when people go hungry?

This example is only one of thousands of similar situations, all over the world, but because it is close to home, it's the one I choose to point my finger at. The individuals who are named in the quotes in this post are people I have known personally in the past, and they are goodhearted and kind people. I don't for one moment suggest it is any single individual's fault that these things happen, or his responsibility to fix it. We know, especially in a large church, that a Pastor does not function autonomously; there are many, many people who contribute to such thinking. So I want to be clear about this disclaimer: I lay blame not on the leadership of the church, but on all of the members who perpetuate such thinking.

The people who will give to a building fund rather than a "keep the staff" fund.

The people who so easily dismiss staff members who have small children to support, and whose jobs could be saved if it was not for remodeling.

The people who say the facilities seem run down and who say that a remodel will draw more people who need to be saved.

The people who go to church every Sunday, in their nice heated, state of the art building, without a single thought about the people, right in their own neighborhood, maybe even members of their own church, whose children shiver at the bus stop at dawn because they can't afford a coat, hungry because there's nothing to eat at home, tired because they slept in a car.

We are all responsible for poverty, and we have to do better than this.

God has a faded tattoo...

It's true, God does have a faded tattoo across his forehead.
I met him 2 Sundays ago, he's about 5'7"
cusses a lot and wears a homemade kilt.
I was surprised that he took so much sugar in his coffee,
guess I always thought God would drink it black.
OK, so maybe he wasn't THE GOD but his name is God
and I saw the GOD in his eyes
I hope he saw the GOD in my hands
as I held his coffee cup while he poured his sugar.

My friend Donna posted this poem on her Myspace blog, and I asked her if I could publish it here. She said yes.

Donna wrote it after serving at HomePDX (a ministry for people who live outdoors) a few weeks ago, and "God" is the street name of one of the people she met there.

I think it's a testament, and an inspiration. Thanks Donna.

The Feminine Of God

The October 2008 PDL is now online. Pam and I had the pleasure of guest-editing again, this time with the Feminine Nature of God as our topic.

The line-up includes an interview with William P.Young, author of The Shack, articles by Pam and myself, and a review of the Nooma video titled she.

And I'm quite pleased to introduce to you my friend Mike Victorino, with his fantastic piece titled 'Look into the Mirror'. I was very happy that Mike was willing to tackle this subject, so please read it and provide him feedback at his blog.

I also want to shout-out to Pam...she really stepped up to bat with this one. When we signed up for this issue, I couldn't see into the future and know that my September was going to be one of the most challenging months of my life. She took up my slack and made this happen, and I'm so appreciative of her for it. Love you, sister!

Special thanks, as well to Bill Dahl, for loaning his PDL platform to us nobodies.

Please check out some of the links and let us know what you think!

The Tribe

You may have noticed I'm not here much these days. Initially, I chalked this up to being overwhelmed with life issues that were difficult to deal with, and it's true I haven't had much time or the emotional wherewithal to write in recent weeks. But in all honesty, even as things settle down a bit, I just haven't had anything much to say here. I'm sure that will change, and I'll be wordy as ever once again. But for now, be patient with me.

It used to disappoint me when I had nothing to say. I used to feel as though I had let my readers down or some such nonsense. You see, for much of the time since I started this blog, I desired it to be a springboard to my writing career. Well, it didn't start out that way. It began as simply a place to unload, to vent my frustrations, to process my pain. But over time, my motivation changed. In the last year and a half, I have often caught myself writing a certain way, hoping my blog hits would increase, meaning I was gaining notoriety. In a nutshell, I wanted to become important as a blogger, because I desired for my bitter voice, my bad experiences, and my reasons for leaving church to be validated. However, the time I have spent putting my energy into that goal caused me to miss the point entirely. I couldn't see the forest for the trees, so to speak. I foolishly believed the best way for my experiences to find validity was to write, and then for lots of people recognize me for it.

Strangely, I have learned in recent months that the posts I put the most effort into, the ones I think really rock, well, usually don't. Or don't get responses that way. The ones where I'm real, just letting it all out, those are the ones you relate to. Those are the ones where I find that so many of us hurt the same ways, for the same reasons. We validate each others' pain, encourage each other through healing, and dream together. I recently realized I have found the validation I sought among the people I have simply met along the way. I have found a tribe who will share this journey with me, who accept me as a follower of Christ regardless of my church attendance or my theology. Divinely orchestrated, a healing has taken place for me simply because I have a blog.

So now I write because I need to share in the journey, not because I want to be famous for my role in it. Being a famous writer is so yesterday; I now believe the world will change by organic means, grassroots efforts, person to person, each acting as an organism rather than by collective organization. I simply desire to encourage even one single life, one day at a time. A life upheld is more valuable than any salary or notoriety, and I'll do it even if there isn't a dollar in it and no one notices me for it.

Another thing I have learned: I have no special knowledge. I am learning every day from you, my friends, and you each know something I don't about this journey with Christ. And I love you all for it.

See, this is it, this is my tribe.

This tribe is not bound by collective adherence to a doctrine or by a building, but in mutual love for each other and a desire to set each other free from the things which have chained us. My tribe is not a place where anyone has to justify their experiences, but a place where we learn from a myriad of voices. My belief in the value of Jesus in my life is unwavering; many other aspects of my faith are in constant flux as I learn and grow. This I am able to do in a community where boundaries are elastic and belief is defined only by a love for Christ. Searching together for ways to better love on the world and on others, as Jesus exemplified, is the common thread we share.

Because of my tribe, the support they have been and the validation they have given, I know my purpose these days. It is not permanent, but it is who I am for now. There are so many people who are still hurting, who don't feel or understand that they are truly free, anytime they choose to exercise that freedom. Free from the bounds of organized religion, from legalism and law, from being told how to vote or where to spend their money or who they should associate with. People who don't believe it is their right to question authority in the church, who don't know that the bible does not always say what we have been taught to believe it says.

These people are out there in far greater numbers than I ever realized...and I come across someone every day who believes they are the only one. They need to KNOW. I want them to know. There is something in this that aids in my healing.

Thank you, to my tribe, for giving me the strength to be who I am.

Farewell, Old Friend

All the stickers I stuck to the back of my closet door are still there. Shiny hearts, smelly stickers, Betty Boop, Laurel Burch....

A piece of the wallpaper from my brothers' room when they were small. It was red and blue.

The massive living room mantel where stockings were hung for 32 Christmases.

The squeak in the 7th stair.

The best hiding places in the world: the linen cabinet, my parents deep walk in closet with shelves in the back, the dark corners of the basement...

The grand, wide staircase that was the central feature of the house. The banister over the stairs...that we all hung from.

The windows overlooking the park.

The upstairs bathroom my sister threw the cat out the window of.

My bedroom shelves...they were peach and held stuffed animals, games, records and finally were relegated to the attic because I was too old for shelves.

The wall we all got to write on before my dad re-papered it. I believe underneath, it still says "I love Phil" from 1986. And my friend Laura wrote "I love Nate", I think.

My sister's closed-off heat vent where she hid things, usually MY things.

The extra wide front door that gave the home a stately appearance. The awning, shutters and porch that made it feel like home.

The two massive maple trees that shaded the house for summer after summer. The "helicopters" that fell from it in the spring.

Our elementary school that we could see from the upstairs windows at the back of the house.

Our high school that sits in the park that borders the property.

The pattern in the kitchen floor; I used to have it memorized.

The basement where my baby brother used to disappear for 3 months in the summer, starting maybe when he was 8. He was/is a computer geek and he kept his computer down there. He was on the net before it was the net.

The wisteria wound around the deck roof.

The pantry that goes all the way back.

The TV room where dozens of family, friends, boyfriends, girlfriends and pets flopped down on the couch.

The T-style swingset and sandbox that resided in the back yard for 25 years.

The playground in the park where we spent countless hours. The pool where we all learned to swim, and also spent thousands of hours at.

The driveway, where 4 children learned to ride bicycles, learned to drive cars, and were sent off to their senior proms from.

The basement that was big enough to roller skate in. The basement we slept in when the weather was too hot to sleep upstairs.

The hiding place between our garage and the garage of the house behind us, where my friends and I used to have our "club".

The stereo cabinet where we played John Denver and the Muppets Christmas album until it wore out.

The kitchen where thousands of cut-out cookies were made, where parties were held, where crafts were done.

The tiny bathroom off the kitchen where my sister would go to talk on the phone, stretching the phone cord all the way across the kitchen...this was before cordless phones.

The way the glass in the downstairs windows is a little wavy...it's been there since 1926.

The box-beam ceiling in the kitchen.

The wind chimes on the front porch that heralded spring, summer and autumn for all those years.

Farewell, this place of love and laughter, the place I have called home as long as I can remember. The neighborhood which is no longer my neighborhood. I guess everything changes, eventually.

You might tell me that it's just a house. And I used to say the same, never thinking this day would come where it would sit, abandoned and forlorn, separated from it's family of so many years, decades.

Growing up, my friends used to tell me I lived in a mansion. Not so, I would tell them, it's *just* a house.

Now that it sits empty and vacant, save for a lifetime of memories.

A mansion it is.