On Electronic Communication

                                                               

I traveled last week on a work trip and I noticed more than ever before people’s habits with their phones. People are glued to them. Non-stop. If they have a spare moment, boom, they are scrolling. I noted that not many people were actually talking on them, but instead, had their noses in them.

One Mom was traveling with two daughters and the daughters wanted her attention; they were asking questions about the airport and the airplane, but they were ignored by the Mom. Completely ignored. She was so engrossed in her phone, they could have walked away and she would have never known it. I glanced at her phone to see what was so important, but she was only on an entertainment site. Really? Some celebrity is more valuable than your sweet daughters?

And this happened over and over and over again. Entire families were sitting together and each had their face in a phone. People walking and scrolling. Juggling rolling suitcases, computer bags, lunch, and looking at their phone. Any electrical outlet had people flocked around it. I thought a fight was going to break out in the Philly airport when the flights started getting cancelled; people needed that charge. Needed it.

These gadgets that were supposed to bring us closer together, well, are they really doing that? The obsession of looking connected; because, I’m sorry, I really believe most people are just trying to do that…look connected.  Connected = popular. At least that is what the TV commercials tell us. I glanced at a lot of screens and not to judge, but you’re in the middle of a crowded airport and you’re looking at an article on the price of rice in China? What are you trying to prove?

But that is our culture now. We are obsessed. We can’t be calm. We can’t be without some sort of distraction.

And I wonder why that is?

Why are we so afraid to be alone with our own thoughts?

My work laptop is configured not to be able to log onto public wifi for security concerns, so for the week, I was without Internet. I had my phone, and although I have the capability to use the Internet, it never seems to look right and I can’t see it all on the screen anyway, so I was out of touch.

And what I realized, what I remembered is this; I really like face to face communication. I miss face to face communication.

A text or an email is necessary in our world today, but my goodness, it is satisfying to be able to look into someone’s face as they tell you a story. One of my co-workers is from Alaska and it was great watching him talk about the place he lives. There is a stream within walking distance from his house where he fishes almost daily and his freezer is full of the meat he hunts; elk, moose, bear. His fiancé loves to fish and right before he came to training they went fishing for Halibut.

Another guy was a retired NYC cop. Watching his face cloud over as he spoke of 9/11; his words faded and his gaze drifted to a window. You can’t get that from a text.

It is easy to hide behind our screens…we don’t have to deal with the other person. We don’t have to look them in the eye and feel their emotion or perhaps deal with their bad breath or egad, come up with a response on the spot. We may fumble our words or feel awkward or laugh too loud or, I don’t know, be human in the presence of another human.

I’ve noticed that I am giggly and awkward with someone. My stomach feels funny and I seem to be outside myself. I kick myself after an encounter, “did I really say that? do that?” or “why didn’t I say such and such!?”  And that is the beauty of being face to face. Sure, it’s easier to sit behind a screen and take your time typing out the perfect response or quip. But, I don’t believe life was meant to be lived that way.

I guess I am just too old fashioned; I want that awkward human encounter.

I have had many conversations with my friends about how electronic communication has all but ruined dating. It just doesn’t exist anymore. One of my girlfriends had a whole relationship without ever meeting the guy. How is that even possible? A guy friend went on what he thought was a date, but then, wasn’t sure. Was it a date or was it hanging out? He showed me her texts…I would have thought it was a date. But, no. It’s so much harder to figure out if someone likes you over a screen. Is the person flirting with me or am I just reading it that way?

One of my friends was lamenting this after her own ‘was it a date or wasn’t it’ encounter and I said how much I like it when the guy you kind of like just calls you. He’s gotten your phone number somehow and you answer the phone and it is him and your stomach does a flip flop. She stared blankly at me. “I’ve never experienced that.”

She mentioned that things like that don’t happen anymore…it is old fashioned.

As I said, I am old fashioned. I want the phone call. I want to be taken on a date. Not “hanging out”. No ambiguity. A date. He has a plan; he tells you the plan and asks if you want to join him. On a phone call or face to face, but he ASKS YOU. He doesn’t ask your screen, he asks you.

And I get it. I have enough guy friends to know it is difficult to ask someone out. So I may lob the ball in your court by saying, “hey, we should go do such and such sometime”.  But I like being the girl. And this girl wants a relationship in the real world, not an electronic one.

Yes, I realize when I don’t know the person that well I email and text. But as I get to know them, that type of communication is replaced by actually seeing them. That should be the goal. Electronic communication should move you to face to face interactions. It is a tool; not a lifestyle. And if you are more comfortable having a relationship with your screen, well, that speaks volumes.

Of course, one of the biggest problems with electronic communication is the rudeness of it all. We hide behind this 3” devise and think the world no longer sees us. We are like a child who covers his eyes and says, “Can’t see me!”

Yes, we see you. We see your behavior. We see how you ignore; how you goad; how you insult.

We see you.

I think of the Mom at the airport and how she was teaching her daughters that ignoring those around you is okay. That it is okay to put something, anything, before those in front of you.

We are in relationships with our phones. We give them our time and attention. We lavish them and cradle and coddle them. We think they are everything.

Folks, it’s a portable computer.

It doesn’t have life.

It doesn’t give life.

You will not fade away if you don’t have it in your hand 24/7.

In fact, may I suggest you are fading away by having it in your hand 24/7?

Put them down. Talk to the people before you.

Don’t think for a minute because you text someone you have a relationship with them. 

It is a false connection.

Your phone cannot give you love or a hug. 

It is an inanimate object. 

Treat it accordingly.

On Getting a Job

For fifteen years, I worked as a claims adjuster. It was an exciting job; a tedious job; a super stressful job; and a job that paid very, very well.

As an adjuster, you had to be one part investigator, one part negotiator, one part inspector, one part hand holder, one part diplomat, one part legal eagle, one part report writer, one part contract specialist, well, you get the idea. You had to be a LOT of things in one. And everyone depended on you for everything from checks to rental cars to hotels to explanations to decisions to just someone to vent at because every customer that called me had something horrible happen to them. Car accidents, dog bites, fires, thefts, water leaks, slip and falls, deaths, bee stings, cows, you name it, I’ve had a claim for it.

The stress of this job comes at you from all angles and even if you have handled something really well, there is someone (a claimant, a body shop, a manager) who will step right up and say you handled it poorly. And that was just how it was. For fifteen years.

So, long about year fourteen and a half, I had had enough. Like enough. It had been a regular Tuesday and I had just gotten off the phone with a claimant who wanted me to know that I had handled their claim so well, they wanted to switch to our insurance. Now, that’s a good day, right?

Well, no. Because right after I hung up, the agent for the insured who was at fault called me and berated me for ten minutes straight. He was mean and vicious and called me incompetent because I had found our customer at fault. Never mind that our customer had ran a red light when the other driver had a green arrow. Never mind that two independent witnesses gave their statements to the police. Never mind that our customer was cited for several violations. Never mind.

When I hung up with that call I said out loud. “Enough.” It was involuntary, but that was the switch. Enough was enough. My stress induced rashes, stomach aches, headaches, and plain old exhaustion were visible signs that my body had had enough, too.

I had been praying for another job and as I prayed at that moment, I felt the nudging to just quit. Over the next nine months or so, I saved and saved and put things in to place to quit without another job in place. Because, that was the way I felt the Lord was leading me to go. It scared me and I certainly didn’t understand, but faith has to come with action, and I knew somehow that He would take care of me.

When the time came, I told my dear co-worker and we tried to figure out the best time for me to put in my notice. The dilemma was real. We were so busy that both our pendings (open active files) were in the 90’s. I implored her to take at least one vacation before I left, because they would work her even harder once I did leave.

Looking back, I remember the absolute relief and giddiness I felt when I called my demon boss and told him I was leaving. Relief. Joy.  Exhaustion.

Freedom.

That was two years and two months and one day ago.

And today, I was hired for a fantastic position with a company that by all accounts looks to be solid and a place I could be with for the next twenty or so years.

I actually interviewed for this job back in August and I did absolutely great until they gave me a test at the end of the interview. Now, it was 3pm and I had not eaten since 7am, which for me, is a bad, bad combo. I don’t do well without food in my system and the first thing that goes is my mind. The test had math on it and, well, I was an English major for a reason. I was completely embarrassed and wrote a little note that I must have gotten too used to the computer doing my calculations for me and that I was clearly rusty.

When I didn’t get the job, I asked why and yes, it was because I bombed the math.

I was crushed.

Then, in December, they called and wanted to interview me again. I was over the moon! But, the next day they called and said that the position was in Phoenix and asked if I could move in the next two weeks. I couldn’t, no matter how much I wanted to make it work.

So, last Friday I saw they had just posted for the position here in Tucson. I emailed the man I had interviewed with and today, he called and offered me the position. No interview. No test. And for more money than they offered in August.

When I hung up the phone I shouted in absolute joy, then collapsed in a heap of tears.

The last two years have been wonderful, truly wonderful. They have been scary as I have watched my money dwindle down to nothing and have had to make the decision to take money out of my IRA. I have cut my own hair, gone without any new clothes or shoes, and have been unable to support others as I normally would. My tithes have been a pittance. My house is clear evidence that I have had no income from the peeling paint on the fascia to the pool that is in dire need of a new Kreepy.

Through it all though, I have had peace. I knew that quitting was the absolute right thing to do. It was necessary. I wanted a different life and I went to the One who could give it to me. Trusting Him was excruciating at times. I thought I would be out of work for 6 months, tops.

 

But, God is just so, so, so, so, good.

I think of everything I’ve done, and everything I didn’t do. It was everything and nothing like I thought it would be. It was thrilling and lonely and brave.

And I don’t regret a minute of it.

On A Year of Grief

Phil has been gone a year. (I wrote of that horrible day in my post On Death and Dying. You can read it under the May 2013 tab to the right) The grief and pain of his passing has dimmed only slightly for me. It is all so fresh; the phone call from Michael, the agonizing days leading up to the funeral, the funeral itself.  

It was as you would imagine it would be when you bury a beautiful young man of 24. I arrived early to support Michael and as I walked in, he nodded toward the chapel. I entered and saw the open casket. I walked through the empty room, flashing back to when my Dad laid in this same room two years before. And then, there was Phil. Laying perfectly relaxed with that sly smile on his lips, dressed in his favorite band tee and jeans. “Oh, Phil,” I wailed to the empty room. “Honey, get up, please, please get up!” How can this be happening? The question reverberated through my mind repeatedly. The un-realness of it all.

The visions of the day haunt me still. The parade of friends standing in disbelief over his open casket with tears streaming down their faces; his co-workers from the Abbey staring in silence; his long time girl friend with whom he had just parted, being supported by her friends. One young man standing before the coffin alone, crying with bewildered disbelief on his face. His words echoed mine. “Why doesn’t he just get up?” he sobbed. The chapel was filled with continual sobbing as Michael and Phil’s music played in the background.

For me, watching my son (and Nick) wracked with sobs for two plus hours, well, it was excruciating. He and Nick were huddled together in the front row. Of those who spoke during the service, many spoke directly to Michael, giving him encouragement to continue on, to continue with their music. Afterward, I marveled at how people would go from Phil’s parents, to the coffin, and then to Michael. The line in front of him was as long as the one in front of Phil’s parents. Some he cried with, some he couldn’t even lift his head to look at them. They spoke words to him trying to console him, but he was inconsolable. 

We, the mothers, clung to each other. Nick’s Mom and I cried complicated tears; our boys are the ones remaining, yet we are inexplicably tied to and share in the grief with Phil’s Mom, and Aaron’s Mom, and Stephen’s Mom. Because, you love your children’s friends as your own…you just do. Aaron’s Dad stood before Michael caressing Michael’s head, kissing him. My heart broke at the tenderness. Aaron’s Mom and I clung to each other crying down each other’s neck.

And then there was Phil’s Mom, burying her son on Mother’s Day, hugging me tightly, whispering words of encouragement for my grief. “No, no,” I whispered back, “I should be comforting you.” “Oh, but you are,” came her reply. Heart. Broken.

The sadness of all this crept up on me last week. I had been counseling Michael about the day, and we talked about how he could handle it being that he is alone in Seattle. (And a quick aside to the evilness of the airlines…why does it cost so much to fly anywhere these days?!) I was worried about him, forgetting that I have my own grief in my attempts to take care of his.

My grief is for sweet, sweet Phil, for missing his happy-go-luckiness; for his parents, for Michael, for Nick. For the friends who still post on his Facebook page. For the last year where I have seen Michael move away and suffer alone as he tried to cope and understand the loss of his brother from another mother.  A year that has seen me delve into the complexities of grief and learn that once again, how Michael and I process it is so vastly different.

He had been wracked with nightmares; unable to sleep for fear of what he would see when he closed his eyes, and this left him gaunt and on edge. I finally found a book that stated some people do have horrid nightmares of trying to get to the person and then dreaming again and again of their death, while others dream of bliss with the person who has died, only to wake up to the emptiness of their departure. That is me. After Jon died I would have dreams as if he was still alive and healthy. We would be living our life and then, oh, I would wake up. It seemed a daily renewal of his death. Both are coping mechanisms as our sub-conscious tries to deal with what is before us…neither is a picnic…and learning of them helped us both.

Michael’s music has been pushed aside. At first, he wrote multiple songs, went to LA to have them recorded, then a band heard his tracks and wanted him to be their lead singer. All such wonderful things, but guilt and sadness kept him from moving forward. He has thrown himself into a full time 9-6 job which leaves him no time to do music. The pain of it is acute, of course, getting everything him and Phil ever dreamed of together. He will eventually figure out how to do it without Phil. How to enjoy what is happening without having to leave to go cry in the alley, as he did when he was in that recording studio. A year is not enough time to deal with it all; how do you move forward when, quite frankly, you don’t want to? How do you enjoy good things without the guilt?

My grief is tied to Michael, of course, but I have my own as well. My first trip to the Abbey was difficult. I had gone with friends but was overwhelmed at the fact that Phil wasn’t there. Our waitress had known him and we cried a little together as we remembered him. I asked her to bring me his favorite beer and even though I am not a drinker, I toasted him and enjoyed my few sips.

I’ve had a few instances of thinking I see him in a crowd…another grief mechanism that is painful. One day on my way to church, I was cruising up Camino Seco and saw someone who looked just like Phil…it was all I could do not to pull over and throw my arms around his neck. “We thought you were gone!” I’d say, without missing a beat. “Come on, I’ll drive you home!”

If you’ve ever lost anyone, it seems plausible. It really, really does. Because you have day dreams and visions of it all being just a terrible mistake and your brain believes it could really happen. If they suddenly walked in the door (or sat up in the chapel) you wouldn’t be angry at all because you would just be so relieved and thankful that they are here! A party would be thrown and you would be so, so thankful. In that split second when you think you see them, oh it is pure joy. And then, the harsh reality sets in, and sadly, you remember that they have died. As painful as this is, it inches you toward healing.

Because, one day, you realize, of course, that they are truly not coming back. The daydreams that this is all a mistake don’t seem as plausible. That they are gone and you are without them seems to suddenly sink in. And that is a good day. And a bad day. It’s a good day, because it signals another part of the journey of grief, and it’s one you want to embrace. You are starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel and you understand that the pain you feel will always be with you, but the nightmares and dreams will subside and you will start to remember them without the devastating pain.

And it’s a bad day because you truly realize the finality of their departure and you realize you have to let go of the grief that is keeping you attached to them. If you stop grieving, you think, you will stop loving them. But, this is not true at all. The daily grief ceases and in its place the ability to move forward with your memories.

Life awaits. A simple truth and a hard truth because you, the one grieving, dictate its outcome. If you are grieving your spouse, have you rushed into another relationship to ease the pain and loneliness? Or have you gone through the painful road to do the hard work that is there? If you have lost your best friend, have you self-medicated yourself with alcohol or drugs or endless hours of television? Or have you talked with people and felt the pain the absence brings? Because, eventually, you do get through it, and your life will reflect how you handled it.

Michael has been incredibly wise through all this. He hasn’t rushed himself. He hasn’t self-medicated with relationships that are purely so he won’t have to feel the sting of Phil’s absence. He has felt the sting. When I was grieving Jon, someone told me that grief is a privilege of love and I can’t tell you how much that soothed my soul. I have shared this with Michael and he has embraced it. He truly desires to one day be able to let someone else in, and he thankfully understands that he has to heal to be able to do that. And that clinging to someone who is gone is not the answer.

As much grief as I have gone through, I’d like to say it gets easier, but no. The only thing that really happens is I know what to expect. I recognize the stages as I go through them, but, I still have to go through them. My view has always been to be as healthy as possible on the other side. The down side of grief and loss is the very practical idea of closing yourself off. You can do face time with people, but you don’t ever let them in. But, I can’t live that way. I don’t want to. Death is a part of life. Grief is a part of life. And their sting is horrible, but I won't let that sting take away the joy of love. Without love and without relationships, life just isn’t worth living.

As I continue to pray for a Godly man to come into my life, I am confident that I will be able to give a 100% to him. I’ve done the hard work. I am not looking to someone to fill the void that Jon has left. I am looking to build a new life with someone. And that is how you honor the person who is gone. Jon would be hopping mad if I just replaced him and Phil would be equally mad if Michael withdrew and never let himself find another friend or let his grief overtake his music. We honor them not by “moving on”, but by taking the life that was lost and adopting their legacy as our own. Jon’s sense of adventure and Phil’s kindness need to live on in me. But the point is; We need to live.

So, Phil honey, I miss you so much. I miss your happy face. I miss your presence in our life. I miss the friendship you gave Michael. I miss your goodness. You were the friendliest friendly and I will always love you.

Yes, I will always love you.

On The Worldly Church

Here are a few things that may shock a few Christians...

There are no cliques in heaven. There are no special areas for Christians who were married or worked a ministry at church. Teaching pastors don’t get ushered to the head of the line with a spot light on them. That person you don’t like at church? How will you react to them when you see them in heaven? Let’s hope not the same way as when you see them in church. 

Why? Well...

Heaven hurts about your clique. Heaven grieves that you are using marriage as a way to look down on those who are single (or divorced). Heaven is saddened by the fact that you use your position in ministry to treat people with disdain. Heaven weeps when a teaching pastor separates himself from the flock and instead surrounds himself with an entourage. Heaven is heartbroken when you gossip in the coffee bar before service starts.

As Christians, we are supposed to live repentant lives. Our sin should break our hearts, but the world has crept into our churches and what once would have been troubling behavior, is now the norm. We’ve adopted the worldly view of “well, I have a really good reason for doing what I’m doing” and the ever popular “it’s not my fault”. The world makes excuses. The world does not take responsibility for its actions and sadly, the church is following suit.

So, we live with our boyfriends or girlfriends, view porn, gossip, exclude people, curse, have affairs, divorce without cause, show our dislike for others, use crude language, ignore the poor, steal, use our position within the church to dismiss people, judge, and so many other worldly behaviors there truly just isn’t enough space.

And we do it all because we think we are okay. “Everybody gossips,” you’ll say to yourself. But, a gossip never sees the damage he or she does to the person they are gossiping about, and if you think the object of your gossip doesn’t know you are gossiping about them, oh how wrong you are. The gossip just feels the superiority high that gossip gives them. They are accepted by the other people in church they gossip with and get props for doing it, so in their mind, there is nothing wrong with it. The feelings of the person they gossip about are of no concern.

That is how sin works. It is deceptive. It is simple. It speaks to our pride and insecurities and tells us we are okay having sex with a computer. There is no one being hurt here. We’ll be able to have a healthy relationship with those around us, it doesn’t matter. What goes into your mind doesn’t come out in your life. No one will know.  Go ahead.

Sin is silky smooth when it tells us to hate that person and treat them with disdain. Never mind that we don’t really know them. They irritate or annoy us, right? Show them how you feel with your not so subtle way of ignoring them. Or smile at them when they approach and then hold your breath and hope someone doesn’t mention a bunch of you are going to dinner, because my goodness, dinner would be ruined if they joined in. It’s all about you and how you feel. As long as your little world doesn’t have discomfort, it’s okay.

The lies of sin keep us entrapped in our justifications. I mean, come on! Those homeless ‘people’ are an eye sore, really. They have no business clogging our medians or our downtown. If they just stopped mooching off us tax paying citizens and went and got a job then they wouldn’t be homeless anymore. It’s their choice to be where they are, after all.

And I get it. Our churches are no longer holy sanctuaries, but are more like worldly high schools. We all want to belong and be included. We even have 'campuses'. And we become people who think we are the ‘cool’ kids looking down on those we deem ‘uncool’.  We make big deals of ourselves because we’ve belonged to the church for a long time and know all the right families and work in ministry and know all the right people. We pick and choose who we feel belongs and those who we feel don’t and then treat them accordingly. We laugh louder in the sanctuary and hold court so others will notice how much we belong. And we feel perfectly justified doing it.

And although we may know that so and so are living together, or you know who is addicted to porn, or that group over there are vicious gossips, we don’t say anything, because it’s so, well, normal.

So, since we are right and okay and justified in our sin, we have no need to repent. Repent from what? We aren’t doing anything wrong. Sin no longer breaks our hearts and in our refusal to see our sin, the heart we break is Gods. Repentance is a deep sorrow for a wrongdoing that brings on change, and we seem to be missing the sorrow that brings the change.  Where is the painful understanding that our behavior is hurting not only other people, but Jesus Himself?

On this, the holiest week for Christians, we keep Jesus nailed on the cross with our unrepentant sin and the casual attitude we have adopted for it. We tell Him our sin doesn’t matter. It is inconsequential. We praise His name and continue doing the very things that hung Him there. Is this why He says of some, “Away from me, I never knew you?”

And repentance really isn’t spoken about in the church any more. Another worldly component that has snuck in is our not wanting to offend anyone. We don’t want to make people feel badly about the sin in their lives. It may be spoken about in a message, say about sexual immorality, but nine times out of ten, the pastor will finish by saying Jesus loves you and therefore doesn’t condemn you.  Which is true, but I can’t help but feel we are leading them right up to a way to get out of the strangle hold of whatever sin entraps them and instead, leading them around it, down the garden path. We seem to forget that He said, "Neither do I condemn you, go and sin no more".

Because to repent, we must tackle our sin, and in tackling our sin, we have to go through the tough stuff. We have to confront ourselves and that can be scary business. Why do we gossip? Why do we watch porn? Why do we live with each other outside of marriage? Why do we ignore people we judge to be beneath us? Why do we judge? Why do we steal? Why?

If we tip-toe around repentance and not do the hard work required to eradicate sin from our lives, it will keep us entangled and away from the Jesus we are claiming to follow. That deep rooted sin in our life is keeping us from experiencing a deep relationship with the Savior of the World. It is again saying that the work of the cross meant nothing.

So, if we are keeping that sin in our lives…and I’m not speaking of a mistake or a stumble…I’m talking about a habit of porn or a lifestyle of living together outside of marriage or gossip and disdain as a way of life for us…if we are keeping that sin in our life, if we are making up excuses and keeping it close, Jesus is still hanging, broken and bloody, on the cross.

And the joy of the cross is that He came down, right? The next chapter is the glorious one…He rose. He conquered death! Our confessed sins went down with Him into the grave and when He walked out of that tomb, we are free from them forever.

That is why we rejoice on Easter Sunday. Halleluiah! 

On Loneliness

If you have read this blog at all, you know that the last year has been a tough one and I have openly shared what I am feeling. In doing so, I have hit a nerve. A nerve we seem to never talk about, ever. The nerve is loneliness.

The response to my piece ‘On Having a Bad Year’, where I touched briefly on loneliness, was very positive…people said some wonderful things and used words like “brave” “risk taker” “positive” to describe me. Except one. One person said they were worried about me; that I seemed negative (which is why they hadn’t been around—this person wanted to spend their time with positive people) and was generally just concerned by my posts and blogs. Mmm. Really?

I think this response is in line with how people feel about loneliness. They don’t like it, in themselves or others. It scares them. In our society, to admit you are lonely is not tres chic…it is social suicide. When you do, people feel sorry for you and then avoid you like the plague, lest it happen to them, too. Not all people of course. Some are able to admit their own loneliness and can encourage you. Some are afraid of how they will be perceived and then live this fear out in their behavior.

And I just wonder why? Why does loneliness have such a stigma? Yes, I get lonely sometimes, but that does not define me. Yes, loneliness can be painful, but what is wrong with that? Don’t we need the lows to see how high the highs really are? And what is wrong with saying I am lonely at times? Why do people turn away in horror that I have admitted such a thing?

Upon Googling “loneliness” I was quite surprised to find thousands of websites dedicated to it; quizzes you could take; definitions; causes; counseling centers for it; and many, many quotes. It seems loneliness is unique to everyone…what causes me to feel lonely will be different for you. And, not surprisingly, people deal with it in different ways. For me, I don’t think there is anything wrong with it. I am not crushed under its weight, although at times it brings me to my knees. It is not happening all day long, but, yes, it does creep in at times. And, so what?

Truly, so what?

If your response to me admitting that there is loneliness in my life, is to run the other way and think negative things about me, then I think that says more about you than it does me.

Because I know this about myself…I am not a wallower. I can name what I am going through, acknowledge that it hurts, and try my best to deal with it in a positive way. Do I gripe about it? Sure. Do I need to talk about it, too? Yep. But, if that offends you, well, I really don’t have anything nice to say about that.

Quite simply, I find it offensive that you would shun me for a feeling I am expressing. Because, that is not what friendship is all about. Friendship is about taking me for who I am and what I happen to be going through. Now, if I am taking my loneliness and wielding it like a sword and am being mean to you, then, and again this is where friendship kicks in, you should just speak to me about it, right? But, you would need to do that…speak to me. Not about me.

And I have discovered that expressing what you are going through, be it in a blog or face to face, weeds the true friends from the fair-weather friends. So, not only do you have to deal with what you are going through, but you have to deal with the pain of someone showing you they don’t like you right now. And, well, okay, if that’s who you want to be. But the flip side of that, of course, are the people who live out the meaning of friendship. They like you. They’re not offended by your feelings and are secure enough in theirs to know loneliness isn’t catchy.

I was speaking with a Christian friend the other day; we were lunching and she said that at times she is just so lonely. I recoiled in mock horror. “Repent!” I screamed at her. She laughed so hard her soda went up her nose. Then we both shook our heads…because as taboo as ‘loneliness’ is outside of church, inside it is very TABOO.

We Christians…Scheesh. It is so hard for us to live out grace. You’re lonely? Fine, keep it to yourself, cause if you dare say it, you’ll be rebuffed as a sinner or thought out of your right mind. Very few will take up that loneliness with you. And if they do, some will do it in a condescending way, as if they are doing a good deed. They have, of course, missed the point. They aren’t seeing a person with feelings; they are seeing, well, I’m not sure what they are seeing. I hope I never do.

Last week, I got really tripped up over a message at church, so tripped up that I emailed the pastor and said I was lonely at times and asked questions that weren’t his to answer, but you know what? He was so faithful…he not only answered with encouragement, but followed up with me this week after his message touched on the same thing.

And here’s the thing that this pastor understands; Jesus was lonely at times. Geez, with the Bickersons, er, I mean the disciples, arguing over who was the greatest and them just not getting it, His time here was fraught with lonely grief. And if God's Son felt the sting of loneliness, well, that means we all will, too.

Jesus’ example of not letting it define you or take you over is perfect. He prayed, He wept, He got on with what was before Him. And He comforted the lonely not with condescension or a reprimand, but with love and fellowship.

If you are someone who is feeling lonely, I pray that you will tell someone. I pray that the person you tell will not recoil from you, but will join you in that loneliness. And, if someone expresses loneliness to you, I pray you will not judge them or turn from them, but continue to treat them as you always have...because friendship isn't only for the good times, but for the sad and lonely times as well. 

And if you decide you'll just leave me alone while I go through this, and only come back when you perceive my life to be "better", you may be surprised to find my life no longer has room for you. Harsh? Maybe. But, this is life. And just as good times are coming my way, so too will another round of bad times. 

And I want friends who will mourn when I mourn and rejoice when I rejoice, because that is the type of friendship you'll always get from me. 

On the Meaning of Love

So, today is Valentine’s Day and with this day comes talk of love and what it means. And it means different things to different people, which really is the crux of all relationships, right? The messiest of break-ups, whether in a friendship or a romantic attachment, comes from the two parties not getting their idea of love met. The struggle or angst comes because each party believes their way is the right way and they can’t understand why the other person isn’t adopting their viewpoint.

Case in point, a few years ago I was strolling through the mall with a guy I really, really liked. As we walked past a jewelry store (in mid-January) on the way to the movie theatre he said this:

“I hope you’re not one of those chicks who expects jewelry every time some holiday comes around. Or flowers or whatever you chicks are told you need to get from guys so you know they like you. And I don’t do Valentine’s Day, so if you’re expecting some grand evening, forget about it. You know I like you and I don’t need to buy you jewelry or anything else, so if you like that kind of stuff, you might as well just break up with me now, cause it ain’t going to happen.”

(And this is pretty much a direct quote, because I recited it to my friends so much, I still remember it after all these years.)

I shrugged my shoulders and said, “Done.” Then turned and walked away. And this I remember too, we were still holding hands, so as I walked he kept holding on, until I had to turn around and flick my eyes at him, then my hand, then back at him again. “Why are you leaving?” he asked. “Cause you’re a douche,” was all I could think of to say.

Of course he called and called and couldn’t believe I was breaking up with him over Valentine’s Day. But the thing was, it had nothing whatsoever to do with Valentine’s Day. It had to do with his very selfish viewpoint. It had to do with the way he thought about relationships and love. It was about him. His viewpoint. His likes or dislikes. It never occurred to him to ask me my thoughts on the subject, he just very douche-ily told me his and expected me to fall in line. Um, no.

Because that is not what love and/or relationships mean to me. To me, love is a verb. It is an action toward others. It is not selfishly motivated. It is about giving, but not giving with the agenda to then receive. To just give.

We’ve all seen what a relationship looks like when it is run by a selfish person; when it is all about them and what they want and what they need and what they perceive to be love. These people crab incessantly about their significant other and what that person is not doing for them, they crab about this person not making them happy, or fulfilled, or whole.

And here’s what I believe; if you are not happy or fulfilled or whole, that is 100% your fault. And shame on you for putting your expectations of happiness, fulfillment, and wholeness on another human being.  

Because looking to someone else to complete you, besides making you a selfish crab, can make you compromise your beliefs or wants to just be in a relationship. I have a dear friend in CA who wants, very much, to get married. She met a guy at church and has compromised her beliefs to stay in the relationship. They are living together and she doesn’t think he’ll ever make the commitment to marriage. And why should he? He’s getting everything he wants, right? She doesn’t see the disrespect this ‘christian’ guy is showing her by asking her to compromise her beliefs. Her witness as a follower of Jesus is tainted and sadly, if they continue in this relationship or do get married, what other compromises is he going to ask of her?

And as much as I have seen (and been in) dysfunctional relationships, I have seen (and been in) wonderful ones where the connections are strong and purposeful.

As I go through this time of singleness, I have great examples of strong relationships, not perfect relationships, but strong relationships. Where you see the love, you see the commitment, you see the other person drive them crazy and you watch them handle it with selflessness and grace.  And yes, sometimes this comes in a box of candy and flowers on February 14^th, but mostly it comes in the day to day exchange of what life is made up of. Jobs, kids, worries, health issues. Life.

The Bible tells us repeatedly that our love is for others. Love isn’t love till you give it away, as the old song says, and as I live this life, I see how true it is. Being loved is a wonderful, wonderful thing…and I don’t just mean romantic love, which is so glorious, but the love of a good friend, the love of a good dog, the love of our families. But, when we give our love away, to that romantic love, or that good friend, or that good dog, or that family member, our hearts seem to soar outside our bodies and takes on a life of its own.

Because love IS a verb.

It is an action for others. It is kindness in the grocery store aisle or on the roads of Tucson. It is a smile for the homeless guy who sells you a paper. It is putting the toilet seat down because you know how much she hates it up. It’s watching him put together an old beater car because it is his passion. It’s accepting others who don’t look like you. It is the God of all sending His son out of heaven to earth.

We all long for and look for love. It’s in our DNA. As a Christian, I understand that God is love, a phrase that is said so much that the meaning is all but gone. But, when I stand before Him on Judgment Day, He will say, “she has sinned greatly and deserves death, but I, being perfect, took her sins and already died in her place, I washed her sins away.”

Or in the words of dctalk…and rap this with me now, “Gave up His life so that we may live, how much more love can the son of God give? Here is the example that we ought to be matching, cuz love is a word that requires some ac-tion!”

Be a verb today. Go. Give. Love.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

On When I Became a Christian

I became a Christian in 1987 and before that I was, um, how would I say this…diabolically opposed to Christians. I made fun of them. Argued with them. Made certain they knew how distasteful I thought they were. Ridiculed them. Heckled them. I once sat at a Christian wedding  (it was my cousin who was getting married) and made fun of the entire ceremony even going so far as to “marry” my friend Brad, who went with me, to show just how ludicrous I thought the whole thing was. Loudly. We were laughing  and repeating sarcastically what the Pastor was saying. We even announced to the happy couple that we too got “married” and proceeded to call each other “husband” and “wife” for the next 10 years of our friendship. We thought it was so funny to introduce each other to anyone we dated this way. And this was one of my milder antics.

When I lived in Manhattan, there was a guy who continually tried to get me to sleep with him. And, yup, he was a Christian. And engaged. I would argue with him all the time asking him how he could be a “Christian” and behave the way he did? I would point out that I was not a Christian but had better morals than he did. He would defend himself by saying that Jesus loved him no matter what, to which I would say that is the stupidest thing I had ever heard. “Do you mean to tell me you can do whatever you want and Jesus just forgives you?!” He would answer that Jesus can forgive anything and I would snort my dissent. “You’re not a very good advertisement for your religion,” I told him. “It’s a relationship, not a religion,” he responded. “Well, you’re not being a very good person in your “relationship” to Him or your girl,” I spat back, doing the air quotes in a mocking way when I said “relationship”. That seemed to hit him hard and I was very proud of myself for showing him what a hypocrite he was and prouder still that I wasn’t stupid enough to fall for this religion.

This is not to say that I had never believed in God. When I was a little girl we went to the Episcopal Church. I had gone through Catechism and the like and talked to God all the time.  The times I felt closest to God was not in church, for goodness sake I used to make up gymnastic routines in my head during the sermon. It was when I was just talking to Him; asking Him things, praying for my family when I felt a closeness with Him. During the sermon, it seemed to me, we just got yelled at and told how horrible we were and who wants to hear that?

But, in my youth, I also mistakenly thought that if I was good and kept close to Him that nothing bad would ever happen to me. And, well, that’s not the case. Within a few years everything that I loved and held dear was taken away and I got mad at God. It wasn’t huge things, in retrospect; my gymnastics career ending because of injury and losing the boy I loved, but for a 16 year old girl, it was the world. So, by the time I was in college, and heard about Jesus from a Christian perspective, I just didn’t want to hear it. Tried that, He’s mean, no thanks.

The way Christians behaved clearly was a hurdle for me.  Jim and Tammy Baker and their huge PTL ministry were big at this time and my nose automatically wrinkled in distaste every time I heard or saw anything about them. They were all about money and hatred, and I just couldn’t align myself with anything so icky. Anybody who had to hide under that mask of make-up was up to no good, I would always say. And, of course, we all know the history. When their world all fell apart, I was right there mouthing off to yet another Christian who happened to be in my life. She smiled at me kindly and said, “You shouldn’t blame God for what people do in His name.”  She explained that God loved me (whatever!) and if I really wanted to know Him, I should learn about Him, not take my cues from people.  She stressed God wasn’t about manipulation or hypocrisy at all, but that yes, some of His followers were.

We ended up having a nice conversation and a week or so later someone on campus handed me a mini Bible that only had the New Testament in it.

For whatever reason, I started to read that mini Bible, but the more I read, the more questions I had about things. And here was my dilemma…how did I ask one of my Christian friends a question without getting preached at? I’d heard the whole “you’re a sinner and going to hell” thing and, let me just say this now, no one has ever wanted to follow Jesus being told this. So, I would try and ask questions in a roundabout way and I quickly found out which Christians were the hell and damnation Christians and which ones just honestly answered my questions. They also steered me toward some incredible books and I did a lot of research.

As I read more and had more questions answered, one of these Christians suggested I go to church with them. It took me a while, but I started to go. At this time I was living with my fiance and he was going on this journey with me. We would talk about the Bible and slowly, we had to start talking about Jesus. He seemed to jump in pretty quickly, but I resisted.

Honestly, Jesus was the hold up for me. All of these Christians I didn’t respect talked about Jesus. Jesus this and Jesus that and He was really more of a caricature to me than anything else. But, the Bible said He was real. Not only real, but God. The God. The Alpha. The I Am.  The Redeemer. The Savior.  And I couldn’t wrap my brain around the thought that He knew me and loved me. Was it pride? Was it arrogance on my part? Or could I just not believe I was deserving? Was it unbelief in Him or myself?

As I continued to go to church, I understood that the next step was to start praying. I read that if I had questions, I could ask Him and He would answer, and well, let’s put that to the test. I would pray about a question and then go to church and low and behold wouldn’t that be what the pastor was talking about that day. I’d look around and try to find out who told him? Who told that pastor I had that question? This would happen over and over again…it still happens to this day, I might add.

Yet, I still resisted. I had all the knowledge, I had all the evidence, but I wasn’t ready to jump. I immersed myself in all things that would help me learn and one was the radio. I would listen to Christian sermons on my way to the U. Now, I was always late and parking was ridiculous. Even if I was on time, I would end up being late because I couldn’t find a parking spot. So, one day I got so mad I started yelling to God…’okay, you’re supposed to be there for me in even the smallest situation? Prove it! Find me a freakin (I didn't say 'freakin') parking spot!’ As soon as the words were out of my mouth, someone pulled out of a primo spot. Did I say ‘thank you’? Nope. In my mind, there had not been enough time for Him to answer; I had just gotten lucky.

And then, every day for a week, that same primo spot would open up just as I pulled in to that lot. Every day. At different times. By the fifth day, I sat there crying in my car, because I knew it could only be God. And several truths hit me; He does love me, He cares about me, He is real. The last one is what brought the tears. He is not a caricature; He died for me. Stupid, sinner me who would demand a parking spot from the Creator of the universe. I’m lucky He takes us where we are, because truly, a bolt of lightning is what I deserved. But, He was gracious and gave me what I needed to understand Him.

My life changed pretty quickly after that. The Bible tells us that when you become a Christian, a veil is pulled back from your eyes; suddenly, the mysteries of the Bible and of God Himself are revealed to you. And that certainly was my experience. Passages or concepts I really couldn’t understand suddenly were clear to me.

I moved out of the apartment I shared with my fiancé and within a few months felt God leading me to break up with him. I heard God’s call on my life and seemed to know instinctively which way to go. I learned a lot about faith and what it meant to lean not on my own understanding. Becoming a Christian gave me a peace and calmness that people noticed. I spoke freely of this change and (surprise!) faced the scorn and biting tongues of people who didn’t believe. My biting tongue was gone, replaced by understanding…I certainly knew where they were coming from.

And, this is how I know God is gracious and forgiving and changes people, because my goodness I was a mouthy little brat! And God used that fact.

A few months after I got saved, my friends and I went to a Billy Idol concert. It was a great show and as we were leaving, we were singing and dancing when we encountered a group of people yelling, “Worship God, not Billy Idol!” They were right in our faces and screaming in anger. And that made me mad. The girl who yelled at me got a big surprise when I stopped. I shook my head, “No, you’re wrong,” I said. “You are making judgments, which Matthew tells us in wrong. You don’t know my heart or anyone else’s heart. It’s wrong for you to assume because we are at a concert that we don’t know the Living God. And enjoying Billy Idol’s music doesn’t mean we are worshiping him…shame on you for your judgments!” She looked startled at my words and as the crowds pushed us away I heard her yell, “God loves you!” to the crowd, which in my mind was much, much better. Because it was truth.

So, this was my beginning to following Jesus. His truths are what hold me together; what has gotten me through the most horrendous of times. He amazes me and His miracles still surprise me.

And, yes, I still sometimes pray for a parking spot when I am late!