We need blindfolds

 January 6th was a travesty beyond the shock of seeing the Capital overrun and looted. Past the shamefulness of a presidentially incited insurrection stands something even worse. The riot on the capital is a brutal monument to the contrast in the way that people of color are treated in this country.

The images of the security shown for the BLM protests and the stark contrast of a fully understaffed and unprepared security force for "Stop the Steal" need to make us stop in our tracks and think. Why do we assess threat differently based on skin color?

If being able to overthrow a peaceful gathering of our leaders by breaking in windows and doors, by disregarding law enforcement and pushing and hammering at them, looting offices and breaking furniture and then walking away from it without consequence isn't white privilege I cannot fathom what else it is.

But while I question where the riot gear, and rubber bullets, and tear gas cannisters were; while I tamp down the anger I feel about this; I have to turn my gaze inward. You see the racist programming is there for me too. I have been making strides in recognizing it this year and steps in re-programming those thoughts. The biggest step is to start finding my voice. 

My voice isn't big, but it is mine. Today I will use it. It is my hope that all methods will be used to find and jail those who stormed the Capital. We cannot go backward and undo what has been done. We can go forward and make sure that we treat them exactly the same way we would if their skin was a different color. We need lady justice to wear her blindfold for this and then we need to keep on insisting that the blindfold stays in place. 

As a teacher of students who are visually impaired and blind, I am working on a degree in orientation and mobility. As part of that I work on walking a route by my house through a park with a white cane and a blindfold. While I do that, I hear the other people in the park. It doesn't matter what the color of their skin is. It doesn't matter if they teens or seniors, Republicans or Democrats. That is all gone. What matters is what I hear, how I am treated, how others around me are treated. 

The happy laughter of a group of teens makes me smile, But I wonder if the blindfold was off - if I saw a girls in hijabs or black teens in hoodies, would my smile fade? Just as egregious an error - if I saw white teens being mean and disrespectful, would I dismiss it?

I think we might all benefit from the use of a blindfold. 

Finally, leaders should be no less accountable than the populace. What happened the other day, that a sitting president whipped a crowd into a fury and then set it towards another branch of government in session is unthinkable. We cannot allow that to go without consequence. Our blindfolds need to block out the status, and power, and political affiliation for a bit. and the actions and words of individuals need to be weighed and called into account. 

I do not have a loud voice. But today with what voice I have, I will raise it in a demand for justice. 

In Good Hands

It is a well known truth that magic rings re-size themselves to the user. While it may be argued that the one ring had a mind of it’s own and slipped that adjustment in favor of sliding off at inopportune times, it - for the most part, fits Isuldur, Gollum, Bilbo, Frodo, Tom Bombadil, Galadriel, and of course Sauron himself, who all can be presumed to have quite varied ring sizes.

Sometimes I think God ‘s hands are a little like magic rings. I feel like they adjust depending on what he knows is best for us. In my head that adjustment really does have to do with size. Many times I can envision God as my big brother, he is a hug, a playful shoulder punch, the hand stabilizing on uneven ground, and often reaching back grasping forearm to forearm to help me jump over dangerous crevices.

That forearm to forearm grasp has played a very important role in my life. During times of doubt and struggle someone reminded me that in that grasp I could let go, but the connection wasn’t severed. It didn’t depend on my strength but his, and I could have supreme confidence in the strength of those scarred hands. He won’t lose his grip. The scars speak to the fact that he has experienced the ugliest we all can offer and still has decided to hold on.

I am a crafter by nature, and often when creating I don’t stop to find a ruler. I use my hands. If the first piece was three fingers wide and the span of my thumb to pinky long, I can easily replicate that on the second piece. The book of Job tells me God crafts that way too, except that his hand spans measured the distance between galaxies and he held the oceans in the hollow of his hand. I need this immense, creative God.

When I need to process, to think, even to get away from thinking and just be for a bit, I head to the woods, the botanical gardens, hiking trails and parks. There is something about experiencing Gods universe that Pinterest cannot emulate. The taste of the air, the smell of growing things, a sky that is a constantly changing masterpiece of cloud and grey and blue and sunset. In those places there is a comfort in a God with hands that big. You feel small, and that is not always a bad feeling. Because you also can see the intricacy of design, the care in the details and know inherently that small does not mean overlooked, that I am a part of the creative genius of the mighty hand of God.

In the Psalms David talks about being broken. He talks about the times he feels his insides melting. David was a man in touch with emotion and he put that into songs. I know that broken, empty, melted feeling too. When it comes at night I remember how David talked of God. How he talked of the strong fortress and in the same song talked of the God who gently tucked us under his wing like a bunch of baby chicks. At nights like this I curl into a fetal position in the hand of God. It is big enough to hold me close, strong enough to keep out the enemies. Larger than God incarnate as a man who understands and can grasp my hand, but much smaller and more comforting than the awesome immensity of the God who created ex nihilo.

I have needed this hand as of late. And I continue to love the picture of baby ducklings or goslings nestled warm and safe under the covering wings.  Perhaps because as a mother, sometimes the emotional wreck that I am comes from worries over my children and the paths they are on, the onslaughts they are facing. It is good to know that this hand is large enough to grasp my family, to cover us and protect the whole clutch and brood.

Sometimes we are exhorted to “be the hands of God” in our circles of influence.  Maybe it was just watching Captain Marvel again last night in an attempt to distract myself from things that are far out of my ability to control, but the visuals of glowing fists came back to me yesterday, when friends surrounded our family in prayer, when they reached out in connection, when one stopped by with a bag of goodies for my daughter. I do not know the theology underpinning this other than that we are asked to love each other. In times that we do, I do think he works through us. It may not provide the visual stimulus of glowing tendrils wreathing our hands, but my imagination can certainly provide that.

So for the next few days, maybe weeks, maybe months. I am going to try to focus on hands. We will be meeting the hands of healers and caregivers who are strangers. We are surrounded by family and friends whose hands are lifting us up in prayer. Gods hands are surrounding us - all of them. The ones of small little ones who play with my daughter in the church nursery, who we can delight in their antics and who bring so much joy, all the way to the immense hands of the God who created on a scale that ranges from a microcosm of subatomic complexity to the inspirational expanse of the multi-verse.

We truly are in good hands.

When heroes fall.

We tell our children to build heroes. To have people in their lives to mentor them. To look to for guidance and growth. To observe. To respect. To emulate. We want this for our children. We want voices in their lives to echo our own values when they get to the age where they are growing away from us, into independent thinkers, young people who are starting to make choices on their own.

We want good examples for them. People who inspire. People to whom they can look up to. And there is something amazing in the pure innocence of the trust that our young people hand over to those mentors and heroes in their lives.

But when that trust is broken, it is a hard fall down. Because there are no pedestals taller than the ones constructed by the innocent.  

The ripples go wide, and the silt and muck turned up, clouds visibility for a while.

We’ve told our children to build heroes.

What do we tell them when their heroes fall?

1.     God loves the fallen. God loves the broken. He loves those who have toppled from their pedestals.  And he calls us to treat others as we want to be treated. That can be a huge challenge in some circumstances. This is an easy and glib statement. And reality, reality is not at all easy. And you cannot stop on this point. It has to be combined with the next.

2.     Consequences are real. An Olympian failing a drug test is disqualified. An NFL player breaking the rules is suspended. A brilliant teacher breaking the rules of conduct is fired. There is a backlash of public opinion surrounding a political figure after indiscretions come to light.

a.     Sometimes those consequences are far removed – not many of us run in social circles that include Olympians, Senators, or NFL players and so the consequences are also removed.

b.     But sometimes we are up to our necks in the consequences. Children cannot see their father because of a restraining order.  Relationships that were in place cannot be re-instated.  The failure of a hero sours participation in a sport or activity.

c.      Showing the love of God gets tricky, because sometimes the consequences make the ground after a heroes fall filled with rubble and pits. It’s not easy to know what to do.

3.     Don’t distil the chaos and complexity for children. It is there, recognize it. Recognize the push and pull of forgiveness and justice. Love and consequence.  Acknowledge that there is a messy world we live in and how we should act and react is not always clear.

4.     Give time and space for emotion. Losing heroes is a tough process. In time the pedestals will grow shorter, the trust will be given less completely. It’s a coming of age that is hard. Even for adults, who watch leaders falter it is hard. Give feelings their room, acknowledge them and allow them space. Anger is ok. Disappointment is ok.  Sorrow is ok. Grieve the fall of heroes. And grieving is a process that takes time.

5.     Pray. Pray for the fallen, pray for those caught in the ripples, pray for those who cannot yet see through the muck stirred up, and pray for those who can. Pray for wisdom to know what to do, what to say. And in so many cases, what not to say. Pray for yourself. Pray for your children. Pray for the heroes they have in their lives, both the ones now and the ones in the future, the shattered and the unbroken. Pray with your children as they grieve, as they move forward. I was reminded today that prayer comes so often from our emotions. Spend time sharing those emotions with your children. Spend time praying together.

6.     Given the age of your children and the depth of grief, take a look at the leaders in the Bible. They were shown in context as fully human, fully broken people with flaws and sins that gave way to consequences in their lives.  Sometimes we don’t tell our kids that Noah had issues with drinking, that Abraham had issues with honesty, that King David had issues with adultery (and murder). We only tell them the pretty parts of those stories. And you have to be cautious because some children don’t need the fall of one hero compounded with another right away. But in time and with age, our kids need to get a fuller picture of what the Bible presents. Because it gives us a totally unflattering, realistic picture of all humanity including the leaders, including the heroes. And in that blatant honesty it also presents a God who loved us in spite of it.  There is power in this picture, and release from human pedestals. It opens up whole new areas of discourse and thought.

What do we tell our children when heroes fall.

We tell them that heroes are not any different from the rest of us.

And that God loves us even though we are broken.

Provided for...

Provided for - a photo blog

Yesterday my daughter asked if she and some friends could take out the Perler Beads. Normally I wouldn't have even hesitated, I would have loved that my kids were putting a dent in the craft cabinet supplies. But the Perler Beads I had designated for the craft station at our Sunday Middle School Program. I checked out the box of supplies that had been deposited on the kitchen table and realized that was a lot of Perler beads - - - - - - a LOT.  And I wanted the girls to have fun, so it was an easy yes. I figured they would play for a little bit, and that I wouldn't even notice what was gone.

Heh.

They did Perler beads for 6 hours. Amazing what teens can accomplish. I didn't get a photo of what all the girls made collectively, but I did get a photo of my daughter's stash.

You get major middle school culture points if you can identify those.

But there was a little problem.

So the next morning I decided I would have to make an emergency run to JoAnns. I wasn't thrilled, because Amazon is usually cheaper, and I try to be conscientious with the craft supply budget.

My daughter told me the colors that we needed and I cringed a little inside. Black, white, blue, red, and yellow... Most Perler packages tend towards pinks, purples, bright neons. So I figured not only would I be paying more for the beads due to the store, but also more to buy those individual colors.

I'd never seen any bulk packages that contained those individual colors.

I was on a tight time schedule so I grabbed the pile of coupons (if you shop JoAnns you know) and hustled out to the store, down the aisles straight to the kids crafting section, and before I even got to the Perler beads, I saw it on a shelf.

Yep, a comic book set - with all the colors I needed + light flesh tone which also tends to run out. And that little red sticker on it - CLEARANCE. The $20 set was half off. I gleefully picked up all sets on the shelf and went to the check out happy that I didn't even need to worry about coupons.

Then at the check-out an added bonus - my educator discount kicked in giving me an additional 15% off because the items were "on clearance" instead of "on sale."  If you shop this store you know how remarkable it is to get stacking discounts (it almost never happens). 

So I went home pondering that all the little details had fallen my way. 

But I don't believe it was chance. In looking at the way the atom is constructed, the way a tree is designed  - I believe in a creator who is really good at the details. Really good. And I believe he is in control in our lives. And that's pretty comforting, because we live in a time when having enough Perler beads for a craft is not our top worry. It's not even close. 

But it was a good reminder...

This is supposed to be a photo blog so, other folks post these beautiful photos of their food and the flowers from their garden all artfully arranged - well our house doesn't work that way, but there are most definitely some interesting things around.

Yup that's the ironing board standing over the kitchen garbage with an empty yellow potato chip bag, and the theological dictionary pulled off the living room shelf to flatten the fused Perler bead creations. No, it's not something that speaks of beauty. But it says something about this wonderful quirky family that I love. 

We have teens.

And potato chips.

And an ironing board that sees more use for crafts than for clothes.

And talks about the Bible.

And friends over.

And  RPG's going on in the living room.

And I am exceedingly grateful for what God has given me. This family. These friends. The dog on the prowl for dropped potato chips and the ability to be our crazy creative geeky selves. He has provided, exactly what I have needed beyond my wildest imaginings.

Coaches Corner - Small Group Tips & Tricks

"My name is graven on his hands" a popular song and coming right out of the Biblical texts, it has a powerful meaning. It speaks to being known, known by name in an unforgettable way. 


Being known is powerful. 


And one of the best ways to start this off with your small groups is by knowing names. Some of you will have no problem with this. You have good facial recognition, quick recall, and groups that are manageable in size, but others of you, for a lack of any of the reasons above or other reasons, struggle with putting a name to the faces sitting in your circle. 


As a fellow struggler - let me share some "hacks" to learning names. 

1. When at Sunday AM force yourself to use their given names, don't slide by with "You're turn now" or by using a generic "Hey kid! how's your week been!" (I know this one well - use it myself when I can't find that name tag hiding under the edge of a jacket.) These slides will allow you to skip the use of their names. So don't slide. If you cannot remember their name - it's early enough in the year - admit that you are struggling and ASK and then use that name like 5 times before the morning is over.


2. Make a photo journal - there are so many ways to do this - especially if you have a smart phone. I've used photos and captions, flash card programs like Study Blue - yes I have put entire classes of kids into flash cards - but that allows me to go through them several times a week until I get them down. The really cool thing is that Middle School students will jump at the chance to give you funny faces and you will have an instant prayer list.


3. Help everyone in your group learn the names of the group members. This can be as easy as having them introduce themselves by name every week and give an interesting fact, random detail, pit & peak of the last week, etc. Or it can involve fun stuff like the "Name Game" which involves rolled up newspapers and is sometimes more effective with the guy groups that have an astounding amount of energy (trust me this is a totally different game with the girls).


OK - 'nouf tips & tricks for the week. Praying for you all as you start these journeys of getting to know the young people in your groups!

~Mysie

The Sokovia Accords

I was sick when my family went to see Captain America: Civil War in the theater. So I have eagerly been awaiting the Red Box release. It was not a disappointment, though I had to threaten banishment if those in my family who had seen it dropped any spoilers during the viewing.

It was a remarkable film in that I could easily see and put myself in the shoes of most of the principal characters. To be able to look at a controversy and see and understand both sides is not something that most comic book style action adventure movies tackle - there is usually a very clear good guy and a very clear bad guy. The grey murky middle ground of reality does not often make an appearance.

The truth is that every war ever fought has had good men and women on both sides. People of integrity and compassion, people with strength in their moral beliefs and actions.

But we like black and white so much. Because it's easy, like a popcorn flick and a large soda, it's enjoyable and doesn't tax our thinking. And if something doesn't impact our thinking it's probably not going to have an impact on our actions. 

I am becoming more and more convinced that we need to be able to wade out into the grey. To not only acknowledge that this exists along with the black and white stuff, but to get a grip on the idea that there may be more grey than any of the other colors.  

It has been stated so many times that fence sitters are the first to get shot down by both sides, but I wonder what we can do to provide our fence sitters extra armor? To develop a new breed that can plant an anchor in that black and white, realize both it's necessity and it's limitations so that they can navigate a very grey world.

Kudos Marvel. You made me think.

Just the right timing....

For the last couple summers I worked at a day camp. It was a frenetic paced, noisy, get-up, get the mini-van packed, drive-in with my teens and work hard job. I loved it. It was the type of thing I could see myself doing summer after summer, until my teens were post college and no longer needing summer jobs, until my knees were too arthritic to get down on the ground with the kids.

But those visions you have of your future don't always work out and this year my much loved summer occupation and I parted ways. I still pack the mini-van with the teens and drive them there, but now I spend my summer hours in a nearby library, utilizing their wifi to accommodate a summer ed schedule that is pretty much insane.

It has been quiet, very quiet. And it has been taking a toll. I miss the little faces and voices a lot, I miss the things kids say and do, and I miss working with others who love all the craziness of nonstop activity from morning check-in until extended care pick up.

So when a friend called to say that she had a summer family event that a face painter had backed out of this weekend I was thrilled. It was everything I had hoped it would be. There is something magical about showing a child their face with butterfly wings or dragons painted, about little boys flexing biceps with painted cobras and little girls trying to choose whether a unicorn should be white with a pink mane or purple with an aqua one. And there is a special place in my heart for the little girl who wants navy blue spider webs and the little guy who is thrilled with a line of pink and gold hearts.

There were a bunch of littles today who got their very first face paint ever, lots and lots of picture taking and happy parents. It was beautiful weather, a really neat theme with super heroes and community service officers showing off firetrucks and police cars, balloon artists and vendors. I got the chance to enjoy the messiness of face paint cakes and stencils and the smell of baby wipes and sunscreen. I got to see the smiles and hear the parent-prompted thank yous (parents you rock!), to drink in the sun and noise and happiness of children and families.

And I got to be a part of it, and it soothed my soul to hear some dear young friends calling bye to me as I packed up and headed back home.

Vestiges of the day, a little Iron Man Gold, and Wolverine Blue

It was a good reminder today, that no matter what turns and twists the road takes, that God is in it. He hasn't made hardships that are too much for us to bear. He will give respite when we need it. I needed respite today and oddly enough it came in the form of face painting and kids. But he knows what we need, and he will provide it. No matter how unique the medicine, he is the great physician.