Grace-period

I once cared for a young man who attempted suicide. He has been ill for quite some time, suffering from addiction and despair. Instead of being willing to face the consequences of his actions, he chose to try and escape through death. As his body lay on the floor, we did CPR and stabilized him before transporting him to the hospital. He didn't regain consciousness while we worked on him. As we cared for him, I found myself moved. This young guy, who probably burnt most people who cared about him, was being cared for, given our best effort to tether him to earth. We rejected his rejection, his inability to accept himself and his actions. We chose life for him because he could not choose it for himself. Quite some time later, it occurred to me that many of us do the very same thing this young man did. Certainly not as lethal, and maybe not even physical, but we try to kill parts of us that we don't understand, can't control, or seem culturally discouraged. I wondered i...

One of the greatest diseases is to be nobody to anybody. -Mother Teresa At first it was fun.  It went viral.  Everyone was doing it. And then the backlash. People began to post on Facebook: is there a point to throwing water over your head?  How is that really helping anyone?  Is it over yet?  Memes began to surface.  One I saw had children from Africa and stated "Do you know how far we would have to walk for that bucket?"  Or asking why we are dumping all that water during a drought (I am guessing there is a drought going on somewhere). Or simply making fun of the phenomenon that began to take over everyone's news feeds-Facebook, Twitter, even the local news and sports sections of the newspaper.  Social media commentators began challenging the challenge takers: do you even know WHY you are doing that? Well, yes.  I do. Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, also known simply as ALS, or sometimes Lou Gehrig's disease, is ...

    As a Catholic, I wore a crucifix.  Contrary to what many evangelicals guessed when they talked to me about it, I was not crucifying Jesus again.  I was remembering the sacrifice of Jesus.  As an evangelical, I wear a simple cross.  Again, for no reason in particular.   (Except that my husband bought it for me to honor my faith and I honor his love.)   It concerns me that we can focus on a piece of jewelry as a point of contention regarding where our focus is, but we don't seem to pay attention to where our minds are.   I was a child in the Baptist church with a fire and brimstone, turn or burn, yell & pound the pulpit for emphasis kind of preaching.  That preacher happened to be my grandfather so I knew his heart, but I didn't understand his preaching.  Maybe I would now, but I heard the cross preached again and again.  How many in that small church had never heard the Gospel?...

The plans of mice and men do often go awry, or something like that was penned by Steinbeck. Well, so do those plans of women. I had a plan today.  I had confided in a few friends about this odd desire to pray in community that had been growing within me. Frankly, it makes no rational sense, and I have been trying to ignore it. While I pray privately and frequently, praying with others can often be boring or embarrassing. Still, in these last months that I tried to shake this, or wait to see if something cropped up that I could join in but not lead, I couldn't get rid of this nudging. Finally I gave up, sending an email to invite a few friends to join me-friends who would not laugh in my face, though perhaps snicker to each other.  It makes no difference, anyway.  I had already begun fretting about what this should look like.   How does one prepare to pray with others?  Is there an app for that?...

I work in a church and a prison.  It still makes me chuckle how similar they are and how they complement each other.  Both are very male driven & led institutions.  Both share the contrast between captivity and liberty.  Both are places that echo God for me. Of course they are very different.  The church works to make its environment comfortable and welcoming to all.  The prison is stark with empty halls and clanging steel doors that separate each segment and people.  It takes a little getting used to.  Security officers manage the movements through the building by watching activity on monitors.  Each door also has a buzzer to ask for entrance. Moving through the prison can be challenging at times, but there is another side to these doors that echo God to me. As I walk through the hallways I come to a locked door, at the end of every hallway, at every housing block.  Sometimes I have to buzz and request entrance....

Sometimes I just have to write.  The words nag at me and won't let me focus on other projects until I tend to them.  This is one of those days.   The problem of darkness and sin has been poking at my heart lately.  It started, ironically, with a very casual discussion about PMS.  A young lady stated she didn't think there was PMS in God's original plan, in the garden of Eden.  Frankly, I had never considered the thought.  All things considered, PMS is a fairly benign annoyance in life.  Even on the days that one doesn't want to get out of bed.  I only considered the curse to be a "worsening."  Perhaps it is because I am a nurse and physiology is pretty routine in my life, but giving birth, even an easy one, could never be completely without discomfort.  Bones separate and tissue tears.  Premature births seem to cause even more discomfort.  But her words did give me pause: what is life supposed to be like...

For once you were full of darkness, but now you have light from the Lord. So live as people of light! For this light within you produces only what is good and right and true. Carefully determine what pleases the Lord. (Ephesians 5:8-10 NLT) Almost a year ago, I was in the hospital. I had been finding myself out of breath after not so strenuous exercise like walking upstairs to go to bed. I was embarrassed considering that maybe it was panic attacks so I ignored them. But it just kept happening so I finally went to the doctor who, after some tests, determined that I had multiple blood clots in my lungs, a potentially fatal condition. I was pretty calm and upbeat most of the time, but there is something about the night. Darkness changes perspective. The world is smaller, quieter, more dangerous, and it was during the night that my emotions would play with my mind. It was under the cover of darkness that fear and loneliness and grief would surface.  As a child, especially ...