Sunday Randomness--all about me edition

~Yesterday was "Hibernating" Day. I had the house all to myself. Read a whole book (fluff book, not that hard for me to do), did some laundry, fed the birds, watched a whole lotta TV and played on the computer. Didn't get out of my pj's all day...even when I drove my car down the driveway at 6pm to get the newspaper and the mail because I didn't want someone driving by to see the paper, check the mailbox and assume no one was home and that they could come help themselves to the house...and yes, that is EXACTLY why I drove my car to the bottom of the driveway in my PJ's. I love Hibernating Day.

~I made Sweet Potato pancakes yesterday too. I officially concede my inability to make pancakes. I either burn them or don't cook them enough. Sigh.

~Driving to Star$ this morning before church, I realized that if someone was behind me they might think I was drunk as I weaved left to avoid pothole #1, right for pothole #2, left again for pothole #3, right to get back into my lane, left to avoid potholes #4-10 and then right to be back, finally, in my lane.

~The youth group Snow Trip is next weekend. We're gonna be talking about the covenants God has made with people in the Bible and with us. I started thinking about the difference between a resolution and a covenant a couple of weeks ago as a lesson for the High School youth and God started talking even deeper. I am always amazed at the process of crafting a lesson or lessons. I ponder a lot...and procrastinate a lot too.

~It is a beautiful January day...so nice that I could put top down on the race car as I headed home from church. Which then made me think it was time to clean it out, which lead me to realize that the back window is beginning to really wear out, which isn't good in a convertible. I think I know where my tax refund will be going. Sigh.

~I LOVE RIB SUNDAY! Uncle B makes the best BBQ sauce ever. It would be even better if I had a whole bottle in my fridge so that when meatloaf makes it's appearance at my house there would be yummy BBQ sauce instead of plain ole ketchup to put on said meatloaf. Yes, I am a little spoiled.

~I also love that Cousin T reported at the dinner table "Uncle L (also known here as Papa Bear) talked to my math teacher and told her 'Tell me if T doesn't do her homework.'" Ha! Small town living has it's benefits. I'm pretty sure that Cousin T was appropriately dismayed and yet glad that her family loves her enough to talk with her teacher...though she might not get that for a few years.

~Today's Chocolate Chip Oatmeal and Oatmeal Raisin Cookies redeemed by pancake failure of yesterday...I can bake.

~And to end the randomness...I love NCIS marathon's. Just sayin.

Lament

La·ment --verb \lə-ˈment\

Definition of LAMENT

intransitive verb

: to mourn aloud : wail

transitive verb

1: to express sorrow, mourning, or regret for--often demonstratively : mourn

2 : to regret strongly

(Merriam-Webster Dictionary Online)

A couple of years ago Opinionated Friend and I joined forces and held a worship night on Sunday evenings. It was an hour of music, prayer and scripture. We a series of themes to be woven together and tell a story. One of my favorites was the night on lament. We had post-it notes available for each person and invited them to write down their laments, the sorrows, their worries, their questions for God on the post-it note. They brought them up and stuck them on an old window that someone had hanging around. I forget the symbolism of the window, but one of our team took that window with the post-it notes and transferred the writings onto the window. She then took pages from an old Bible and put them behind the notes to create a kind of collage. The effect was dramatic and poignant.

The window collage wound up in Opinionated Friend's office. When she moved, it came to my office. It sits just across from my desk, in my line of sight every day. There hasn't been a "right" place for it to reside, so it sits and waits for a proper home...and I look at it every day. I am not in the same place that I was that night that the window of lament was made and yet it still speaks to my soul.

It occurred to me the other day that there aren't many places in the world where we can safely lament...where we can pour out our worries and concerns, where we can cry out the injustices that have struck our hearts and lives, where we can cry out our uncertainties about God...which is why that night and that window was so important to me. For that hour, it was safe to rail, to question, to cry out and doubt God. No one would question or tell us that we were wrong or not good enough Christians. We were gathered as the people of God...truly coming just as we were before God...with no one to edit or add to our statements of lament.

Tonight at High School group we talked about being filled with sorrow before we can find joy. Giving voice to our grief before we can find laughter. The context of tonight's discussion was in relation to our own sinfulness, but there is something to that line of thinking. In order to fully appreciate joy we must first fully appreciate lament. We must first give ourselves over to the mourning, the wailing, the sorrow before we can find joy again.

My experience with grief has shown me that the times of joy that come after grief are sweet, pure and even more profound in light of all that I have experienced previously. There's an appreciation for the lightness joy after walking through the darkness of grief that I would not have known. That joy is even sweeter when I find the freedom to lament...strike that. Joy is even sweeter when I am given the freedom to lament, to give voice to the sorrow and the pain inside my soul, to cry out to the God that I know holds me close but yet seems so far away at times.

I've spent the past few days looking at the window of lament, thinking that the world needs permission to lament, to wail, to mourn, to regret what has been and clear the way for joy.

Filters*

I recently rejoined a Bible Study group. It's been over a year since I decided to take a break, for multiple reasons, the biggest one being that the Bible Study group meets on Friday mornings at church. Right next to my office. Friday is my day off. Going to work on my day off became very, very uncool. But another part of me left because I was really tired of reading the Bible through someone else's filter.

When I left the Bible Study we were going through a study book about women of the Bible. Written by men. Our format of study is a little different than how the book was written, so our group went a little bit more in-depth the with study than most people would. Our first lesson was on Eve. We read the scriptures, read the questions, read the author's commentary and, well, all H-E-double hockey sticks broke loose. The filter through which the author's read the scriptures and answered their own questions was not the filter through which the Bible Study group read the scriptures and answered the questions. One of the ladies in the group started taking notes on the differing opinions that we had with the authors. There were many.

Take, for instance, the fruit that Eve and Adam ate. What was that fruit? If you've been to Church, Sunday School or even heard the story or seen a painting of that incident, you would likely say that the fruit that Eve and Adam ate was an apple.

Here's what is says in Genesis 3:1-7

3:1 Now the serpent was more shrewd than any of the wild animals that the Lord God had made. He said to the woman, “Is it really true that God said, ‘You must not eat from any tree of the orchard’?” The woman said to the serpent, “We may eat of the fruit from the trees of the orchard; but concerning the fruit of the tree that is in the middle of the orchard God said, ‘You must not eat from it, and you must not touch it, or else you will die.’” The serpent said to the woman, “Surely you will not die, for God knows that when you eat from it your eyes will open and you will be like divine beings who know good and evil.”

When the woman saw that the tree produced fruit that was good for food, was attractive to the eye, and was desirable for making one wise, she took some of its fruit and ate it. She also gave some of it to her husband who was with her, and he ate it. Then the eyes of both of them opened, and they knew they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves." (Courtesy of NET.Bible.org)

A straight reading of this story shows that there is no mention of the type of fruit that was eaten. It could have been a fig (which would explain a LOT about Jesus' frustration with the fig tree in a later part of the Bible!!), it could have been an apricot or peach or pear or orange or pomegranate or anything else. It does not say that the fruit was an apple. And yet, some way, somehow we have gotten it into our heads that an apple was the fruit that gave wisdom to Eve and Adam. My original filter for that story says that it was an apple, so every time I read the story I saw "apple" where "fruit" was written. But that's not what it says.

The things we read, the things we hear, all run through filters in our brain. Many times these filters are made up of experiences that we have had, lessons we have learned or something that we have heard somewhere along the way. Sometimes the filters stop us from really seeing or hearing what is written or said. The information gets tweaked, just enough, so that by the time we receive the information, it's a little different.

That can be a good thing. There are times when we need to filter out useless information to get to the heart of a message. I know plenty of people that need to give 15 minutes of back story before they can get to the heart of their story...my filters work overtime in those instances. When on the receiving end of criticism, filtering helps. Get through the ugly words to the meat of the criticism...which can still be ugly. Filters are there to try to help us make sense of what is being said.

When it comes to reading Scripture, though, sometimes our filters aren't so helpful. Which is why this Bible Study has been a challenge and an eye opening experience. My filters are much different than the author's. I have been forced to look at what the Scripture actually says, not what we have conjectured into the story, to seek answers and understanding. Even then, my filters put things in that are not there...Mary rode a donkey to Bethlehem...wait, what? There isn't a donkey in that story?! Are you sure?!

Rejoining the Bible Study, I was very aware that they were on the 2nd book of women of the Bible (the study books were bought together...before we knew better) written by the same three men...which could be a whole different blog post but I'll leave most of my feminist instincts on the editing floor for the moment. This time I am going into the study with my eyes wide open. I read the Bible through a different filter. I'm okay with that.

*This post came about because of this blog...which my filter's are telling me is a little sarcastic.

Goodbye 2010

For the first time in four years I wasn't in Mississippi to greet the New Year. It felt a little strange to not hear the sound of gun shots amongst the fireworks that went off at midnight last night. The fact that the fireworks are illegal here made the sound a little more clandestine. I did, however, appreciate not feeling anxious about the bullets from the gunshots somehow winding up wherever I was. It was strange to wake up this morning, turn on the TV and watch the Rose Parade, not struggle out of bed at 6:30am to be at work in Pearlington by 8. 2010 closed a good chapter in my life.

One of my friends works at the S.C. Beach Boardwalk. It's a place that I have spent many an hour...I worked at the wharf adjacent to the Boardwalk for a couple of years. The Boardwalk has a roller coaster called the Giant Dipper. It was built in 1924. A little while ago, the ride operators of the Giant Dipper realized that they were close having a million riders for 2010. They decided to do a little promotion and try to reach the 1 million rider goal by closing on December 31st. This last week anyone could come to the Boardwalk, pay for one ride and ride as many times as they would like. My Middle School Intern, Jon-boy, and I thought it would be fun to go and ride Giant Dipper and help them reach their goal. So Friday, Jon-boy, R-girl and I headed to the Boardwalk. We arrived about 2pm. Our friend LN was there as we boarded the train, all laughing and having fun. We got off and immediately got in line and went again. We got off and went back to the line for another go-round. That's when we heard the cheers...the train that loaded as we got off had the millionth rider on it. LN told us later that she knew that the train after ours would be the one with with the millionth rider. We respected her integrity in not giving it up so that we could be on the train. So Jon-boy, R-girl and I have the distinction of being riders 999,973, 999,974, 999,975 (or somewhere close to that) on the Giant Dipper for 2010. I think that's a great way to end the year!

Goodbye 2010...thanks for the memories.

The duct tape

There are many moments from this last Mississippi trip that I will never forget. Some are lessons learned that were a little painful, others were moments where I saw God work. My favorite moment had to do with duct tape.

A few years ago my friend N decided that I needed some pink duct tape. My guitar case was getting a little beat up from the airlines and so he bought the pink duct tape and I decorated my guitar case. Last February in D-land, my poncho tore, so N again came to the rescue, this time finding pink and purple plaid duct tape. My D-land poncho is now designer gear. In April the team in Mississippi found purple tie-dyed patterned duck tape and gifted me with as a special prize for being a Jefferson Award recipient. Cousin T found out about the different patterned duct tape and decided that because she loves anything ducks, that she wanted duct tape (or as we more commonly call it "duck" tape) for Christmas. I was happy to oblige.

While in Mississippi, I went to my favorite store to dislike shopping in but the only place available, and found a whole plethora of duct tape. Zebra striped, camo, bright yellow, red and yellow tie-dyed and flame patterned to name a few. I picked up the Zebra and red and yellow tie-dyed for Cousin T. That was Monday night.

On Tuesday we stopped at the Mini-Mart out on highway 90 to grab some sodas and coffee for the crew at lunch. As we walked up to the counter to pay, the lady behind the counter stood up and, as I said in a previous post, her stool that she normally sits had flames on the seat but was patched up by silver duct tape. I knew right then that I was getting her the flame duct tape.

Wednesday we went out to lunch, so we didn't go in the mini-mart. That afternoon, Ben and I had to make a run to Lowe's for more building materials. As we drove we started talking about what was happening in Pearlington. We talked about the new market that is going in on highway 604, which lead to a discussion about the mini-mart on highway 90. Ben doesn't hold high regard for that mini-mart nor the lady behind the counter. I commented that I actually got her to smile and his reply was that was because I was from out of town and that I wouldn't be around that long to bother her. It was a pretty interesting commentary on small town life.

That night, even though I was tired and had a blog to write, I drove a group to my favorite store to dislike but there are no other options and bought the flame colored duct tape.

Thursday lunchtime arrived and I was eager to get to the mini-mart. We pulled up and I jumped out and about bounced into the store. There was the lady behind the counter sitting on her stool. I walked up to the counter and produced the duct tape..."here, it's for you!" and then it happened. The lady behind the counter didn't just smile she laughed. A deep belly laugh. A laugh of surprise, a laugh of delight, a laugh that said sounded like music to my ears. I knew right then and there that my job for the week wasn't really about getting a ramp done, it was about bringing joy to the lady behind the counter.

As we left, she offered to pay for it and I refused..."it's my Christmas gift to you," I said. "Merry Christmas" was her reply. The smile was still on her face and I hope that every time she sees flame patterned duck tape she gets a smile on her face.

It's amazing what God and flame covered duct tape can do.

Not a talker

I am not a talker. I don't talk just to talk. If I have something to say, I usually have thought about what it is I am saying and try to choose my words carefully. There are very few times when I ramble on and on and on about nothing. Making small talk is painful, painful I say! This can be a problem on multiple levels.

It's a problem when meeting new people. Not being a great conversationalist, meeting new people is downright hard. There are a lot of uncomfortable silences and pauses. My mind races to think of any subject that can be easily discussed without putting really saying much, which is a problem seeing as how once that one single sentence is said there are minutes worth of silence left to be filled. So I am labeled as cold or aloof or unpersonable or maybe even superior, which is not really the case. I simply struggle with small talk and don't find it necessary to say words that I don't mean.

Which is a problem in my job, which is very much a people oriented job. Small talk is necessary. I've learned to ramble on and on and on and make small talk but that comes with a price. Simply put, for every 5 minutes of small talk I need 15 minutes of recharge time. Time where I can be alone with my thoughts, to allow my brain to catch up with all the input and output, to allow my introverted soul to reflect and figure out if I said what I really meant or if words just flowed out that had no meaning.

All of this came up in my head because of a text message I got from a friend today..."You got time to chat?" The answer was convoluted. Yes, I have time but No, I don't have the words. I've used up my quota of small talk. I have been chatty over silly little things to the nth degree over the last week and I'm chatted out. More than that, I simply don't have the words for what is going on in my head and heart. "I can't chat today...rain check for tomorrow?" was my reply to my friend. She was okay with that.

Ready for take off

I'm sitting in the New Orleans airport waiting for our plane. It's been a good, quick, hard week in Mississippi. The tears that threatened all day yesterday finally spilled as I pulled into the driveway at the Yellow House. That last hug with Mr. Ben, I just didn't want to let go. The finality of this trip is palpable and yet...and yet...and yet.

I wish there was another trip around the corner. I wish there was more money to do the work that needs to be done for the people who are still without homes. As we took one final drive through Pearlington today, there were far too many houses still sitting empty, just the way they were left when they were cleaned out with nature taking over. We have always left thinking that there would be a next time in the near future. There is no next time in the near future. Our job is done.

Goodbye Pearlington. Goodbye Mississippi. Thanks for the memories...the life changing memories.