Month: September 2016

Unexpected Encounters

On By LisaIn FaithLeave a comment

I found a frog hopping down my hallway. Just a baby one, an adult frog would have been really odd. My upstairs hallway, away from outside doors and window access unless this baby amphibian has super jumping powers. It was covered in a fine webbing of fluff, like it was caught up in dryer lint. My dryer is on the floor below. I truly have no idea how this frog came to be in my home, how it managed to stay alive with two dogs and two cats who would certainly be intrigued by the movements of this little creature. How did I come to see it first? You might think I’m crazy but I am convinced it is a God thing. You would surely believe me if there were thousands hopping down my hallway, a plague among my family. Will you trust in the miracle of one?

I took the baby, wiped him off and set him free. Then puzzled over his purpose in my life. I wondered how long I would have stayed that odd creature, veiled to hide my identity, a veil which hindered my progress. Showing up at unexpected places, seeking asylum, wondering how I came to be with this crowd, how can I ever find my way home. Dependent on others to strip away the parts that hold me back, to deliver me safely to a resting place. Or cowering in corners, wondering if I could remain invisible forever. I certainly must have appeared so when I showed up in Janet’s clean living room, unshowered, unkempt, confused and so lost I couldn’t find my way back to God. I can’t claim any hopping, I barely had energy to brush my teeth. She gently helped me find my way back, she saw my soul underneath, she saw worth in my life, she saved this frog.

Maybe the lesson of this little creature in my home is to remember the awesome responsibility of the freed.  I must keep my eyes open for others who need a bit of help as well. To see beyond facades, dirty clothes and expensive wardrobes, all the ways we hide from each other and into the soul seeking a safe place to rest. Unexpected encounters may show me someone who just a needs a way home. God will bring these people into my view, will I see them? It won’t always be so clear as a frog in an upstairs hallway. It may take more than five minutes of wiping down and safely depositing in the yard. These are details I will trust to God. These are the miraculous everyday encounters I pray I keep seeing and have the courage to act on. Certainly this story would be quite different had I found a mouse.

 

Soccer with Jesus

On By LisaIn The Chef, Travel6 Comments

I played soccer with Jesus yesterday while Chef loaded baggage into our car. My 2 1/2 year old opponent spoke little English but his beautiful brown eyes and quick smile stole my heart immediately. Little boys and grandmas need few words when a ball is available. The other adults managed the packing up to move this family who came to America and found there was no room at the inn. I played soccer with Jesus who’s family worships a different path to God. His mama doesn’t call him Jesus but my soul knew.

This couple, highly educated, came to study at Purdue and found themselves the victim of a fraud. Their housing agreement, paid in advance didn’t exist. No room at the inn. God was watching though as He guided them to the doorsteps of a member of our church who has been sheltering them for a week, establishing them at the university and setting up banking. His skills at maneuvering those systems as well as his apartment that was free for a week must be God showing off. Our extra beds close to the school, our habit of taking in strangers, our nest newly emptied, God clearly is guiding this Islamic Mary and Joseph on their journey. We are honored to provide a safe haven for weary travelers in a strange land with the blessings God has given to us. Isn’t this God’s house anyway?

As we navigated food and customs and acclimating a child to our rather large beasts, I heard Jesus call me Auntie. He calls for me, of course I come. So easy to answer any call when the voice is that of a child. God knows how to talk to my soul. We ate pizza, not the best way to welcome them but we were all exhausted. The banana I sliced for him became our game, another way to connect. We adults are finding our voices with each other, Jesus and I are already communicating well. I looked at this family sitting at my table, breaking pizza together, knew it was thanksgiving early. I knew it was grace. How to stop hate in our world? How to stop the polarization, the labeling, the separation into groups based on religion or gender or who one loves? Invite Jesus to play soccer. Then have some pizza. It really doesn’t have to be harder than that.

Soon they will be settled in their campus housing, the 6 months they are here will fly by. I believe they will return and tell stories of Jesus worshipping people who took them in, then sent them to the next family who worships Jesus. They may tell stories of hospitality and grace that will shed light into who we as Christians are, who we are meant to be. Christians who try hard to follow the teachings of Jesus and follow that entertain strangers bit. We will tell stories of God’s glory in guiding Mary and Joseph and little Jesus on a journey. One story at a time, we might just spread love.

Open Nest Openness

On By LisaIn Faith, The ChefLeave a comment

Those baby birds that nested in our garage? All have safely flown away. I miss the insistent chirps echoing in our space. Quiet has descend. Our level of quiet with 2 dogs who find the best time to battle over a stolen sock is when I sit down. But this I have grown accustomed to. God sent the mama to us, to our garage for safekeeping. I fretted over the cats, trying to monitor their location as they run freely and visit only during storms or hunger or the occasional desire for a chin scratching. God wasn’t worried.

Our little huntress was missing for two days, the days the babies took flying lessons. I was able to corral the big beasts and the fat lazy cat but my little girl was AWOL. I called for her every time I passed a door, I checked on the  babies as often. She didn’t show. Finally I checked the shed, the doors were shut after my Chef mowed. Surely she wouldn’t have run in there, the noise would have sent her scurrying away. In her 6 years with us, she has never been locked in there. Out of options, I looked anyway.  She was curled up on the mower seat. She was saved the indignity of walking the property to her food bowl, I deposited my wayward girl into the house for all of nature’s safe keeping. She ate, rehydrated, slept, the babies spread their wings and flew unto branches.

I may not recognize their songs now, the blending of all the morning joy into one. I won’t forget though the opportunity to love who God brings, the awesome responsibility to share our blessings, the joy that comes from opening even the little spaces to those in need. We find ourselves in this home with too many bedrooms, too much quiet, wandering about, rooms not entered for way too many days. Our home is not fit for an HGTV spread, unless it is the “before” picture. It is easy to grow self-conscious about all that is wrong, all that needs updating, painting, renovating. It is easy to avoid opening our doors because we don’t feel our home is good enough. Then we find someone who is in such great need that our place becomes like a castle. We find someone, or God brings someone to us, and realize that the shelter we can provide, the respite from worry and confusion, the peace and grace afforded at our table, these are the gifts of our home. God brings us people and creatures. We keep our doors open to those who need us. Those with more may be shocked that I don’t have a dishwasher. Those in need are amazed that we have so many beds, waiting.

I am realizing more and more that my soul is just as my home. So in need of fixing up. Broken, chipped, scarred, oddly patched but accepting of those who come without judgement. Broken knows broken. Look deeper and you will see a home, a soul, inviting all those who want more. Come and see me, I will share what I have. I will feed you, let you sing to me your song. You can nest here for as long as you need, until your wings are ready.

Soul Art

On By LisaIn FaithLeave a comment

I am supposed to have this time each week where I gather with some friends and we art. They do actual art, I write. But we quietly create in this dedicated time. Today I hijacked this time with these women because my soul was bleeding. I went to this creative time as if rushing to the ER. I needed patched up as only close friends who tell you the truth can do. Supporting, guiding, chiding, and then offering some ideas, this is soul healing stuff from  women who have their own souls that bleed and their own needs and really wanted to art. I felt only a little guilty for taking this time over because I know that the core of this time is trust. It was a safe place to take my junk, my broken pieces, spread them out like old crayons and let the group melt these into something new.  We made art, still. No watercolors touched the paper, pastels never left the box. My laptop stayed in the case, in my purse. Yet the generative grafting of my dark pieces into a new light, swirling colors around so that I could see a new thing, staunched the bleeding, nursed me back to a health that accepted I was responsible for many of my own injuries.

Being in authentic relationships with other women is like having a first aid kit available all the time. God how I mourn the lost years of pretending to be someone else in order to fit in, pretending to be fine when I was hurting, pretending to laugh when the jokes weren’t funny. Thinking survival among other women meant I had to give up my own air, I suffocated myself. I hid my truth, my brokenness, kept my voice quiet. I thought that was the price of friendship. What beauty to discover how wrong I was. I no longer mourn the loss of those superficial relationships with women who couldn’t handle the me covered in old scars. I mourn that they are still afraid to show theirs.

I have a safe group of friends who see light in my darkness, who show me grace when I am the one who is broken and in need of extra care. Other days some else brings a soul that is in need of intervention. I pray I rise up as well as these women. I am no good with pastels and everyone knows to keep paintbrushes out of my hands. Showing up, staying truthful, being open to another’s gift of soul sharing, that is just us bringing our supplies. God makes the beautiful art of our friendship.