Open Windows; Cityflicker Things You'll See & Hear

Spring is here and with it comes cool breezes, cherry blossom, green ivy and open windows. And with open windows comes, a vulnerability I am not sure I am prepared for. Living in a community like mine - town homes on a busy urban road, it's inevitable that you will see and hear things from others you wish you didn't. And vise-verse  I guess to prepare you or maybe to somehow explain, here are a few things you'll see and hear as you walk past my house.

• At any given moment, you will hear me tell Nico to put his pants on. Yes, we have reached the special age of nudism and body obsession. I now know more about boy parts than I ever wanted to know. 
• With the nudity obsession, you will also hear me tell Nico where to pee. Just today, I had to tell him sternly that he is not allowed to urinate on his sister. All the while Selah giggling, totally clueless as to what I just saved her from.
• You will see a giant play horse in my window. Because while I try to keep my house as adult as possible in the common rooms, I also entertain a lot of moms with children and they need to do something. Riding "Giant the horse" in the window is a favorite pass time.
• From 8:30-9:30AM, unless I am hosting something or at a morning activity, you will hear PBS cartoons. Yes, I firmly believe in 'decaying' my children's minds with Curious George and The Cat in the Hat.. Judge me at will. I don't care.
• At 5:30PM, we eat dinner. Like clockwork. I believe in routine. And I enjoy cooking.
• Likewise, from 7-8pm, you will see our family sitting on couches, usually one child on my lap and the other on Michael's, watching Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune. We mute the TV during commercials and read books and tickle little bellies. And when it's on, we shout out answers and giggle when we actually get it right.  
• You will hear screams of delight and cries of pain, because having a one year old and a two year old means lots of laughter and lots of band-aids. And also, lots of correction.

So if you're in the neighborhood, stop on by. Take a ride on the horse and watch a round of Jeopardy. Or just keep walking and close your ears.

Impressions & Their Catch 22's

 I'm always amazed when I'm wrong

...when it comes to people.

As narcissistic and conceited as that sounds, I pride myself in being a decent judge of character. And yet, I have been wrong more that I have been right. Why I'm ever shocked at the amazing capabilities of a person or the crappy character some people possess, is a quandary. I've seen a lot. I've been burned, badly. But I've also been blessed, beyond measure. 

Relationships are like that, if you allow them in. They can take you by surprise.

I don't know if it's my current stage in life (motherhood) or that I'm nearing my mid-thirties (yikes!!), but I've learned a lot about impressions - to listen to them sometimes and hold them loosely other times. What might first rear its (ugly or beautiful) head may not be true to the whole of the person. Here are just a few ways I'm learning to differentiate between the two.

Sometimes the warning signs that declare a person judgmental and capable of totally misunderstanding me are absolutely true. I was recently horribly misquoted in a meeting, based off a blog I wrote a year ago, and instead of being asked to clarify, was judged to have intentions and motives I simply never had. Mind you, I wasn't even AT the meeting. Sometimes, the hair on the back of my neck stands on edge when I hear people give strict commentary on alcohol use or women's right or certain parenting styles or racial issues. Sometimes I simply know, if they believe that, they'll never truly see, understand or even like me. Most of the time, I am happy to have made the initial boundary. For all parties involved. Because I usually lack the grace to shut my mouth. 

Sometimes though, the warning signs that declare a person judgmental and capable of totally misunderstanding me are, simply, wrong. I know that I have made countless snap judgments about a person based on a passing comment, where they attend church, their education, life decisions or what they wore last Tuesday.  I am hard-wired to do this. I don't apologize for being socially observant. But I am learning that I am a fallible observer, capable of great insight as well as terrible blind spots. People can make a closed-minded, conservative comment about a random subject but in fact, be quite liberal. I should know; I've been misunderstood as a conservative, Bible beating Evangelical on more than one occasion.

But these examples are trivial, really. They come down to preferences and social situations and time management and how annoyed I want or don't want to be on any given day. These situations deal with my feathers being ruffled, not my heart being broken. There is a difference between the possibility of being pissed off and the feasibility of being totally fucked over. In these situations, I am learning to proceed with caution. (Confession; my yellow lights are usually blinking the fastest in church.. I blogged about this here.)

The more difficult warning signs are the ones that point to real danger. These are the kinds of first impressions that are 99% accurate, valuable and should be immediately obeyed. With my children, I listen to these warnings. With myself, I generally have not. But I am getting better.

I have a friend that was mugged after walking out of her apartment, seeing a man coming toward her car, feeling endangered but for a litany of reasons (not wanting to racially profile or gender stereotype or deal with a world that so often makes women, victims) did not listen to her impressions. She was forced to the ground at gun point and fortunately just had her purse (and sense of safety) stolen. It could have been worse. But it could have never happened had she listened to herself. 

There are also more prevalent examples of emotional cautions we receive and should listen to, but often ignore. For whatever reason, I believe we are all susceptible to a certain kind of unhealthy personality type. For instance, highly controlling and charismatic people, usually in positions of authority, are a weak spot for me. Even when I get chills of terror and dread when interacting with them, I am like a moth to the flame. (I'll leave the psychoanalysis on my weakness for another post or two.) My point is, it is wise to listen to those warnings. I have made real strides toward guarding my heart in this way, but I am still susceptible. We all need to evaluate our history of relationships. Where there is a negative pattern, we should learn to RUN LIKE HELL away from the personality type who gives us warning. I wish my friend cared more about herself at that time than being politically correct. I wish I would have cared more in previous year about my heart than I've cared about snuggling up to perceived power. 

In my teen years and into my twenties, I often found myself diving right into relationships without any guard, blindly trusting that the system (school/work/church) I was giving myself to would discern for me. I was always quite surprised when a person I implicitly trusted rejected or betrayed me. It's only in the past several years that I have started to outgrow this and proceed more responsibly. Where every previous relationship encounter registered green, I now read yellow or red. I simply need to see more about a person before green is given because I am often so wrong. 

And I guess that's the thing.  It really is a learning experience that's tapered to the individuals we meet within the context of our own life's history.  We use the past to help us gauge the present and the future, but people sometimes surprise.  And sometimes they don't. But this is the catch 22 - We are right. We are wrong. Regardless, we need to listen and learn the difference between what is deserving of a yellow warning and what is a red warning. Unfortunately, practice makes perfect. I guess by the time I'm 40, I'll no longer be caught off guard.  

Lenten Lessons from a Passion Play

Lent was very full. There were no breaks or times of lament - no space for the introspection and fasting that usually accompanies the season. I was busy, largely due to my participation in Why Must He Die? with the Tri-County Choir Institute under the direction of Linda Wallace.  It was a truly wonderful experience. I met lovely and talented people and in the process of acting the part of Mary, the mother of Christ, I came face to face with some truths that have spoken volumes in my faith. Here are a few photos and Lenten thoughts, based on the characters in the play.

1. Mary, Mother of Jesus: I think Mother Mary had real moments of regret as she watched her son be brutalized, unjustly punished, nailed to a cross and killed. I think there had to be moments where she wished she wouldn't have been chosen - moments that she wished for normal - moments she regretted ever saying 'Yes!' to her God. She was utterly and helplessly unable to take her child's pain away. Yes, I do believe there had to have been moments that she questioned the goodness of God - His grand plan to bring her vulnerable, perfect baby into a world so cruel. That side of the cross, Mary had to have uttered the same thing her child screamed in agony from a cross, My God, My God - why has Thou forsaken me? It was her cross, too.
   
   
   This side of redemption, we can all deny God's power and the perfection of His plans when all appears dark. And can't it look pitch black sometimes? This Lent, just in my faith community, we have buried retired Saints and people in their twenties. The news has been merciless to a high school rape victim. Boys have used weapons to slaughter classmates. Knives have been used to cut human flesh (in a Target story). We are so fucking broken here. As a mother of two small children, I am horrified at the reality of this world in which they will grow and learn, experience pain and injustice. Having children is like having our hearts walk around outside our bodies. This is our cross as parents; navigating redemption in this painful place. It seems an impossible task - to be like Mary. Her vulnerable strength and grace to endure will forever be my parental prayer.
   
   
   
2. Solome, Mother of James and John: This was a pretty intense woman. She had to be - being the mom of the "sons of thunder." Attempting to secure the destiny of her children by requesting Jesus place them at His right and left in eternity was pretty ballsy. And totally respectable, as western cultured parenting styles go. (Reminds me of the infants pre-registered for 30,000/year kindergartens, who guarantee graduating placement in Ivy League colleges, 18 years down the road.) I wonder if she was the one who created that old saying, "Be careful what you wish for." Because I'm sure, upon seeing Jesus hang on a cross with two dying criminals at his right and left, the irony was not lost on her. I'm certain the symbolism gave her great pause. How limited her view of success was. How humbling it was to realize the cup she thought was a silver chalice was really a splintered mug of poison.
   But don't we all wish for easy success? Refinement without fire - hero status without pain - freedom without cost? Don't we wish that for our children - praying they are healthy, happy, whole and complete - untouched by rejection, failure, injustice and fear? This is the shit of it. Well rounded human beings are never untouched by the cruelty of life. Solome's son James was the first to be martyred. And John was the only Apostle who wasn't. Those parenting odds suck. And yet her story is important to me. It keeps me in check concerning my wishes, for self and family - for it's rarely possible to have great success without real suffering.
   
3. Mary Magdalene: What a woman! She embodied the redemptive work of Christ. From the rags of used up whoredom to the riches of eternal love, Mary Magdalene was clearly a woman changed. Her strength and loyalty tested and proven.
   The depicting of Mary Magdalene in this particular play, and in most passion plays, is the one major element I whole-heartily disagree with. Mary was not a woman plagued with the "Is He man or is He the Son of God" debate. She did not misunderstand His love or her own in return. She was not shallow enough to have a crush on her Savior. She was no confused school-girl. This was a woman who had had the quintessential hard-knock life. She was fiercely intelligent; she'd been around. Jesus rescued her from depravity and sanctified her. She followed Him the ends of the earth; she went with Him to the cross. She wept with His mother and later, she witnessed His resurrected purity.
   Mary always gives me hope. She inspires me never to feel devalued as a woman or made to feel I am too intense about the people closest to me. I relate to her fierceness. And resolve.  She out-'couraged' most of the Apostles and went to the cross with Christ's mother and John. She was brave.
   
   
   
4. Simon Peter: The Rock - the one whom Jesus chose to lead and carry out the legacy of His Kingdom on earth. Peter has always been my favorite Apostle. His brazen commentary, unabashed loyalty and complete cluelessness make for one of literature's most complex characters. What strikes me most about Peter is this; he wasn't a pussy. He wasn't the cliche' church guy who acted a part like so many Christian men do these days. Peter was out - honest - cutting - trustworthy. The antithesis of a Pharisee.  Peter said what others were too weak to say themselves. Peter messed up big and denied his Savior, but the beauty of the story, to me, is that only people capable of huge offenses and mistakes are likewise capable of great successes and victories. "He who has been forgiven much, loves much." - Luke 7:47
   Of course Jesus chose Peter to build the Church. Because the Church Jesus created was never meant to be a jewel-filled temple of white-gloved fakes. He wanted a rough and tumble playground of real people - the kind of people that mess up, confess, accept forgiveness, walk in redemption and share the message of Emmanuel  - a God who got dirty WITH us. Real men; real women - not a city of angels. Authentic to the core and rough around the edges. If our churches seem a little too smooth and plastic, they aren't the Church Christ sanctioned Peter to build. This reminder cuts my church-girl ideology to the core. I think we're doing church wrong. *ducks*
   
   
   
5. John, The Beloved: I can promise you, I have never once given the Apostle John enough credit. I guess I took him for a pacifist, the first hippy maybe (and we all know how much I dislike hippies). I admit, I thought him a little weak. In contrast to Peter, John approached Jesus differently. And became described as "the one whom Jesus loved." 
   Just because someone isn't loud and abrasive, full of grand gestures and risky action, doesn't mean they aren't strong. It doesn't mean they don't boldly believe, passionately care and deeply love. It takes character and great strength to suffer alongside a friend. Most people check out. Most people shut down. Most people talk a big game but never fully deliver. 
   Not John. John was the only Apostle to go to the cross. And he didn't just go, he supported the weight of a mother's loss, the weight of Mary Magdalene's tears, the weight of the world on his best friend, his Christ's shoulders. This was a strong man. We shouldn't judge so quickly - valuing grandeur as if it's more sincere. While Peter's strength was geared toward and utilized to build the church, a ministry to the masses - John's arms held Christ most precious persons, a grass roots ministry to individuals. 
   I am reminded in this contrast that introverts and extroverts alike are called to do marvelous and extraordinary things. And I am cautioned to remember always that love is not weak. In the end, it's Love that laid down His life on a cross and it was the one whom He loved that stayed until the end. Love sustains all.
   

   
   
6. 
   

   Judas Iscariot: There is a Judas in all of us. And I'm not talking the typical betrayal aspect of his legacy. Or his suicidal tendencies. I'm talking about the shock and horror over the painful results of forcing the hand of God and Him not caving to the demand. I don't know what Judas believed as he breathed his last, but I do suspect this; he never thought Christ would actually get sentenced to death. He wanted political freedom. He thought he knew how to obtain that. He wanted Jesus to conform to his own image of salvation. He simply got tired of waiting for Jesus to do what he wanted. So he forced the hand of God.Don't we all?Don't we all get tired of waiting for our perceived answers of salvation? And in so doing, we create our own god just by creating our own answers."If I looked like that, then I'll be loved." (and happy)"If I got this job, then I'd be successful." (and happy)"If I could have children, then I'd be fulfilled." (and happy)"If I get this special degree, then I'll make the money that I need." (to be happy)

   We're all so shallow and petty at times - telling the God of the Universe what He should and should not do in our lives to make us into what we think will bring us joy. I know there is a lot more to Judas' story, but my heart hurts for his plight in this way; I see him in me.

I could probably go on. There is so much to say, so much to relate to. In the end, I was deeply moved by this play and grateful, challenged and changed by the way in which my cast-mates fleshed out such deep truths. I walk away from Lent this year with renewed faith in His story, their story, my story.