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.

Headspace: Workout #4

Wow.... where do I even start...

A week ago I started using an app on my phone, Couch Potato to Running 1 Mile.*

And I have been faithfully allowing this electronic voice to control 20 minutes of my life 3 x's a week.

Because I need it.
Because the stormtrooper armor is way too tight.
Because I don't want to have a heart attack on a hike with my kids.
Because I have a sedentary job behind a computer screen and I really do need it.

But I am really in bad shape. Worse than I have ever been. And I've never been really coordinated  or remotely athletic to begin with so that limits a lot of things.  So the couch potato to 1 mile trainer seemed like a very good way to go. It uses interval training and that appealed. Also while the first three workouts were tough, they were doable.

My first three workouts were 5 minutes of warm-up walking,

45 seconds of running,
2 minutes brisk walking,

45 seconds of running,
2 minutes of brisk walking,

45 seconds of running,
2 minutes of brisk walking,

45 seconds of running,
cool down walking

And the first day was hard, it really was.
The second day I initially thought was going to be easier, but it wasn't. Sore legs made the session painful, even after diligently stretching out.
The third day, it was still hard, but I was starting to like a little bit of the feeling afterwards, when my face returned from some awful shade of puce and I could breath like a normal person instead of wheezing and puffing like Howl's Moving Castle.

The fourth day - it rained.
And yeah. I know a lot of people who run in the rain. And I don't think I'd have minded it. But I couldn't figure out how to keep my electronic trainer safe. I briefly considered a zip-lock before  giving up and saying that I WOULD make it up the next day.

So today I go out and the handsome electronic voice (can voices be handsome? I swear they must pick them out with that as a criteria) the voice tells me that today we are starting a new work out for the week. I expected this. I expected to upgrade the intensity. What I didn't expect was how much of an upgrade that would be. Todays workout was:
5 minute warm-up

90 seconds of running
90 seconds of brisk walking

90 seconds of running
90 seconds of brisk walking

90 seconds of running
90 seconds of brisk walking

90 seconds of running
cool down walking

Uh yeah. When I heard it I knew. I knew what was coming.

I have to say that I babied it today when I started. I tried to get further and faster on that warm up walk - it was still a brisk walk, but I pushed it where I wouldn't have pushed it that hard at that point before. Because I knew I wasn't going to do a full out run on those 90 seconds. I knew that I was going to drop down into a jog instead of a run. In hopes of making it out the other side of the workout alive. With my heart still beating and my lungs still breathing.

By the 3rd 90 second run, I was doing a jog so slow that my brisk walk would easily outdistance it. I was puffing and huffing badly enough to get concerned stares from dog walkers and moms watching toddlers at the park. My walking portion, when it finally came around resembled more of a drunk sailor on jelly legs lazy meandering than any form of a workout walk.

By the 4th 90 second run I was in physical pain. And worse was the mental anguish realizing that this half hobble was nothing even close to what I envisioned when I started.  Breezing through the park with ease getting my heart-rate up and burning calories. Nope there was no graceful runner out there today. Nothing breezy. More like clanky, chugging wreck.

On the cool down walk I stumbled to the part of the sidewalk in the shade under my neighbors tree and then slowly meandered back and forth in the shade, even though that looked weird and this was my neighbor who has been known to call the police about "weird." I reasoned if a squad came, it would have AC, and that would be a legitimate reason to stop the workout - having to answer the police...

I am realizing that there is no way that in the next two sessions that I am going to get to where this is supposed to be. I am so glad that handsome-voice gave permission to repeat a week. Because if the intervals make another jump like this on week 3, I will need to figure out which is quicker. Putting 911 on speed-dial or actually dialing [9][1][1]. Because I will fall down in the park and die. And it won't be a pretty death.

I would give a lot right now for an app that went from 2 minute walking 45 seconds running up to say, 1 minute 45 seconds walking  and 1 minute running. The object is slow and steady right? 'Cause the is couch potato is quickly loosing it's starch right now. Starch = resolve to see this through.

So time to count the good things about this.

• I need it - pure and simple
• Eventually, I will feel better after exercising (still waiting on this)
• I won't die on a hike with my kids
• It's probably a good thing the workout got offset by the rain, I can't imagine this app making Mondays more to look forward to by upping the routine that day. Now it's going to change up on Wednesday, and at least Wednesday doesn't have the Monday-weekend-gone-blues attached to it to. (That's all Monday needed - more reasons to dislike it!).
• Eventually, I will loose weight. I may even buy those exercise clothes then - make it look more official - then if I stumble through the park, people will understand the wheezing and staggering better because I will be dressed like someone exercising. 
• Eventually the exercise will make me sleep better (still waiting on this).
• And of course, if I keep this up, by Halloween, the stormtrooper won't be the subject for donut jokes.

Not a lot of short-term encouragement in that list. We aren't going to get to the payoffs for a while yet. And we won't get there at all if I quit this. So here's to continuing the battle.  If I was the peppy cheerleader type I'd say something like "Go self!" But I kind of have that wry Eeyore personality and "Go self!" is choking in the throat.

So we'll just have to dangle the mental image of a slimmer Stormtrooper out there as a carrot and keep it up. And aim to do it with just a smudge more glide and grace than the last time.

And maybe, just maybe we'll get to the point where I'll have enough breath to argue back at handsome-voice, because, well, if people are gonna stare we might as well give them some entertainment-value.

* Name of app changed for protection.

About Birthday Parties...

My Facebook feed is filled right now with photos of the last "kids" birthday party that I will plan for my girls. That conclusion has led to a little reminiscing, and a little bit of questioning. Weighing if we accomplished what we sat out to.

My husband and I had a lot of conversations about birthday parties when we started our family in the early 2000s. I watched a friend who was lamenting over parties after her daughter turned 1. They had parties with both sides of the family, a party with playdate friends and another with childcare friends, since they had trouble getting schedules together to match and their house wouldn't have been able to hold everyone if they had done all of them at one time. The aftermath left enough toys to stock a small toy store and some serious dents to the budget of a young family. With another child on the way she was wondering how they were going to handle two of these momentous occasions a year. 

The concerns that family was facing was enough to spur some conversations at our home. The first big decision we made was to wait on parties. My first memories of child hood are, at best, from two years old, my husbands from four or five, and most of them are a bit hazy, probably made clearer by photos and stories that we've seen. We felt that we wouldn't scar our children by holding off on something that they would most likely not remember. 

Now that doesn't mean we didn't celebrate. We baked a cake, had a nice meal, and bought a toy or two and wrapped it. If the grandparents were in town they were welcome to join us, but we kept it small. The year my oldest turned 2, I had a newborn and we were moving. In the middle of all of that we got a supersize chocolate glazed muffin and put two candles in it. It was a year where I was happy her favorite food was mac and cheese, because we could do that in a microwave. And packing paper and washable markers makes great wrapping paper and doubled for an activity to keep her busy while we were trying to get furniture reassembled and boxes unpacked.

It worked. She was happy. She felt celebrated. And we didn't damage an already limited budget at a stretched time. It started a family tradition - every child in our house has had a supersize muffin when they turned 2. And it spurred more conversations about birthdays and parties and what that might look like going forwards. Because we saw change on the horizon.

We wanted to have birthday parties where our children invited friends. We just wanted to control the cost, size, and frequency. Having a party every year for every child would have been more than stretching us. So we came up with a plan. One party a year and it would rotate whose turn it was. The way the dates fell for us that meant our children had parties when they turned 5, 9, and 13. 

Those ages were chosen carefully too. 5 fell before Kindergarten and the class rules that said you had to invite the entire class if you invited children from school. It gave us a chance to have cousins and friends from church and with the smaller guest list made places like Chuck E Cheese & Build A Bear feasible options. By age 9 our children were old enough to get the addresses of friends at school and the invites could be mailed out and avoid the "invite the whole class" issues. 13 fell before 15 or 16, because we wanted to stay away from the "coming of age parties" associated with those. It meant that we skipped those years all together in the "party zone" because the next increment is 17. 

Yes, we are planners and assessors.

But strangely enough, here on the other side, I can say that it worked. The kids had parties that were similar to those they had been invited to. They didn't feel short-changed. And on that last "big party" year, we set aside some funds and put in the time to make it a "cool party." It didn't break us, and it didn't break the kids. 

The goals were to have well adjusted children who didn't feel slighted by not having the massive input of "Birthday Party Fever" that seemed rampant in their elementary years with one suburban family trying to out-do the next. It was to celebrate our children in a way that fit in our means. 

It isn't for everyone. Because every family is different and has different needs, different children, different budgets. But I have learned some important things that cross those boundaries. Truths that fit, no matter where you are at with your family.

1. It's really OK to not do what every other kid on the block is doing. 

That's easy to say, but it isn't easy to do sometimes. And there have been times where I have had to be more open about our choices to be a bit different than I would like to. When I have had to explain to a mom-friend that the reason their child didn't get a birthday invite this year isn't because their child has fell out of favor, but because we aren't having a party for that child. The reactions have ranged from understanding and supportive to those who seem taken aback, to the mom who felt sorry for my child and offered to put on a party for her. And while I know that it was well-intentioned, those places were awkward and uncomfortable to figure out.

But, my girls have learned that it is OK to not be like everyone else. That you choose the path right for you. And that has been worth every moment of halting explanation or social awkwardness.

2. Being intentional isn't a bad thing.

Planning and assessing birthday parties sounds a little obsessive, but it was a part of the fabric of family life and it was a choice that we made that stood away from the culture that we were living within. We wanted to find a balance, and that meant a little extra thought, a little extra planning, a little extra creative thinking, and a bit of evaluation. No matter what your choices on birthdays or breast-feeding, or education, or work/life balance - having had discussions about why and what goals you want to reach and how you are going to try to attempt that is a plus. Intentionality is a good thing.

3. Flexibility helps

Planning is a strength as long as we can adjust when plans don't fly the direction we thought they would. That happens - it does. We had spots where we wondered if our ideologies had harmed our oldest, because she wasn't getting invited to other parties, and where she was struggling with building friendships, and you wonder if the frameworks you have set up need to be set aside for other more important reasons.

You adjust some things because your youngest's 13th birthday falls three days before the start of Middle School - so you put her party off for six months so that she can form solid relationships at a new school before you ask her to invite friends. Because those parties are a great window into the people that she hangs with on a daily basis. They are things that help build relationships, and you don't want an awkward date to hamper that.

When the cake topper that you worked on for two straight days topples off the top of the cake and smashes the antique carnival glass candy dish from your grandmother. You breathe deep and you clean-up and then count the positives. None of the glass went towards the cake, the topper was salvageable, and the bowl of the candy dish was still intact, only the cover bit the dust, and let's face it, it was a bit too ornate for your tastes anyways... You don't let it ruin the occasion, because you won't have another chance next year.

When your mom makes cool cakes for everyone else, it's nice when she makes one for you.

So here I sit, the parties are all done. 17 means eating out at a nice restaurant. And I am OK with that.  I am sure that there is a time when I will miss the planning and the sticky cake decorating and the list of details that need to get done by a certain date. But for right now I'm in the evaluation stage, and happy, because I think I can say - It worked and they all turned out good. And if there are friends who are tired of another day of birthday photos, please know this won't be an every year occurrence. In fact, it might be a very long time before it happens again.

Letters to my daughters: The power of the chocolate chip cookie...

There is one skill that I have full intentions that each and every one of my girls leave this household with.

It might surprise you, especially if you live with me.
Because it isn't doing your own laundry,
or not stashing dirty socks behind the couch (moms of boys do not have a corner on such things),
or forgetting to brush your hair for four days in a row (which I could handle if it was a pixie cut, but yours comes down to the middle of your back, or it did three days ago),
or hanging up bath towels to dry instead of wadding them in a wet soggy corner to end up smelling stale (even after three rounds through the wash),
or learning to balance the checkbook (and pay off credit cards every month),
and be responsible for your commitments (you signed up for it - not me),
and show up to places on time (which means 5 minutes early, unless you don't know where you are going and then 20 minutes early is a better plan),
and if you can't make it home on time to use that thing called a cell phone, so that I don't sit and worry where you are... (please keep using that cell phone, and Facebook to keep in contact - even when you don't live upstairs here anymore).

Yes, those are things that I hope that you leave this house with (and Lord knows, we have broken the record on a few of them).

But I WILL teach you how to make cookies before you leave this house.

Not any cookies, but a double-batch of double chocolate chip malted cookies.

And here's why.

Because cookies make people feel better.

And there are a lot of people out there who need to be cared for.

You can't do anything about the co-worker who is having a horrific week, but you can let them know you care.

You can't help your neighbor who just got a terminal diagnosis, but you can show you care.

When you kids are down and school has been tough - cookies and milk when they get home does actually make the day a little more bear-a-ble.

And when you have had the bad day, when you are the one railing at unseen forces in this world and pushing against walls you have no hope of tearing down. On those days....

On those days, you come home and bake.

And you bake a double batch - because a warm baked cookie can make you smile even if you were the one who made it. But a double-batch means praying about those who need them too, about quick notes to write to make sure they get into the hands of those who need them. About the people around you that you can care for.

And it's an amazing thing that hour in the kitchen will do for you.

The house will smell good and inviting.

You will relax, at least a little bit, maybe even over a warm gooey cookie and a glass of cold milk yourself.

Those who live with you will be glad. And if you live alone, take the opportunity to drop a plate of the warm ones to a neighbor if you can. Or make the night better for the librarians at the local library, or your dentists office when you go to visit (and that way they also know why you have cavities). The college-age or singles groups at local churches will make quick work of them. If you have kids, teachers always need a boost before conference night or before grades are due at the end of the quarter.

If you are praying as you measure the flour (spoon it into the measuring cup, don't scoop it out of the flour bin), God will always give you ideas on who can use them.

And believe it or not helping others, that can be some of the best medicine when you are having a hard day yourself.

And when you make them, I hope for one last thing. That you will feel me beside you giving you a quick hug, because I am proud of you and love you - enough to make you learn to be precise in measuring the sugar, enough to make you overcome your anxiety about hot trays. Enough to understand that that 1 teaspoon of salt is still important (pretty sure there is a lesson there too) I love you enough to teach you about one of the greatest powers in the world.

Prayer combined with cookies.

Chocolate malted cookies

Letters to my daughters: The truth about being right...

People - we are a weird lot, you know. On almost every topic imaginable you can find people who have diametrically opposing beliefs. And we all believe we are right. We fight for that right, and yell, and scream. We base decisions and actions on those beliefs, we build our world view and then defend it. And when the screaming and yelling and reasoning ends, we go to war for what we believe to be right. It can be small social skirmishes, or the foundations of intercontinental bloodshed.

It is the same within the church. We scrap and fight about the little and the big and can be passionately right about everything from what songs we should sing to versions of holy texts, to the parsing of morality. The world sees it, our inability to get along, our vast ability to stop being kind to those we disagree with, our penchant for attack when we feel our version of "right" is not accepted as wholeheartedly as it should be. And more than one has suggested that the path to future enlightenment lies outside of religion, outside of faith.

You almost can't blame them.

My girls, you are going to find that there is actually quite a lot written out there about being wrong: how to graciously apologize, how to allow those moments to help you grow, how to repair and rebuild the damage done. Less is written about being right, even though that is where we will spend so much more of our time. At least we will believe we are right much more of the time, whether we really are is harder to say.

I've been doing a whole lot of thinking lately about the story of Paul and Barnabas. They were the dynamic duo. Barnabas came into Paul's life when he was a new Christian. Paul was incredibly knowledgeable already, and had an amazing conversion story, but the truth was that he had a lot to overcome. It had to be hard in those early days to overcome fear, the fear of the Christian community that this was a ruse, a way to entrap them and cart them off to prison, or the stoning fields. To overcome grief and distrust and anger for the life Paul held before. But Barnabas was there. A man that trusted easily when God put someone before him. A man of encouragement. A man to reach out and build others, to make bridges for others.

God put Barnabas and Saul together and they did great things. And then John Mark entered the picture. A young man they took with them to help on their missionary journeys. Someone to mentor and build. The details are sketchy, but  John Mark left the group and went home. He gave up. We don't know why or any of the reasons surrounding this. But when Paul and Barnabas came back and were preparing for another trip, Barnabas was ready to give John Mark a second chance and take him with again. Paul was not. It sparked a disagreement between the two men. Contentious and sharp and divisive. They left on trips separately.

Arguments are like that. No doubt they both felt they were right. The Biblical account follows Paul and Barnabas the mentor drops out of the picture. But it is John Mark who makes an unexpected mention later down the road. We don't know what happened, but much later Paul, under house arrest in Rome asks that John Mark be sent, because it would be advantageous to have him near. It's as close to an admittance of wrong as we get in the situation. Meaning that if we as outsiders, not knowing the details had to judge right and wrong - well Paul would probably fall on the short side in that initial argument.

And for me, I'd rather be aligned with Barnabas. I'd rather be capable of mercy and second chances. I'd rather be an encourager, a builder. I'd rather be Barnabas than Paul. But here is where the rubber meets the road. Paul may have been dead wrong about John Mark. His choices caused hurt and it destroyed the working relation he had with his team. But God continued to bless his ministry. The truth is that an argument can be made that God blessed both men. While we know less about what happened with Barnabas, we know that his investment in John Mark paid off.

Girls you are going to hear a phrase at some point in your life "I don't think God can bless a ministry that (insert perceived wrong)."  Let me tell you right now, that one is a lie. God blesses all types of broken people who have done wrong things and hold wrong ideas. If he waited for us to be right - truly right about all of our views - he'd never be able to work at all.

So here's my advice, and understand that right now I'm writing this to myself as much as to you: Consider that you are going to be standing holding a wrong view at some point in your life. I think that statistically and maybe even experientially you might understand this. And I have an inkling that if God could open our hearts and show us how often we truly are wrong that it might very well crush every last shred of confidence we have.

So when you are wrong, how do you want to be treated?

The answers I come away with are things like, patience, forgiveness, acceptance, kindness - all the things that very right people are so often very bad at doing. Things that people who are hurt by others struggle with too - and you gotta know those "right wars" hurt.

I think, in the in-between spots in the Bible that Barnabas was good at those things. Because somewhere along the line, he stopped focusing on the hurt, stopped focusing on the cause of it, and went forward. He didn't grow angry and tear Paul down for those decisions that caused the rift. Instead he focused on molding a young man for leadership, pouring into the next person God put in his path. And he didn't pour in hurt and contention and betrayal and bitterness into that relationship. Because if he had, Paul would never have been able to ask for John Mark's ministry down the road.

The truth about being right, is that patience, forgiveness, mercy, and kindness may be some of the hardest things in the world to dredge up - especially in those heated, contentious sharp divisions that come our way. Being right (whether real or imagined) can be so much harder than being wrong.

So find people to surround yourselves with who can understand. People that you can say all the bitter angry lashing out things that you want to say, but are too polite, too controlled, or even too afraid to. Find people who can let you vent. But my girls find people who know that after the venting is done it is time to diffuse the fires and calm down. Find the people who will walk with you in righteous indignation, in hurt, in grief, in anger, and in the hard places who can encourage, who can show empathy, but who do not steer you into an unending whirlpool of anger and bitterness. The ones who set you back on shore after the emotion abates.

Look towards the future. And by that, I mean the next person you can help. God will put those people in your life at those places. And if he doesn't bring them to you - you go out looking, 'cause you will find someone to help. When you end up stumbling through war torn fields in the aftermath of a battle, it doesn't matter if your side was the last standing, because the damage has been done. Look for those who are still bleeding out, for those you can heal, for burnt buildings to rebuild, for the John Marks - who are out there.

As you can, try to see the other side, try to humanize them. Try to remember and catalogue the good not the bad. When there is history, focus on the positive portions. Because it is quite easy to make mental lists of deficiencies and hurts, not near so easy to do the other.

Pray for those who you believe to be in the wrong. Give them grace and pray for blessings on their ministry. Because God's blessing is more important than who he works through. And when it comes down to it. Every single one of us is wrong enough to deserve the death penalty. So from that box - we can't anyone of us claim the title of the King (or Queen) of being right.

Apply the golden rule, when you are right, for tomorrow you will be the one who is wrong.
And ask God for the strength that is so difficult to find, so difficult to come by when you are so very right.