Sharper in Real Life

I remember the first time she came to my home. I was hosting a birthday party for my preschooler and her daughter was at the top of the guest list. Though I didn’t know her well, we worshipped together regularly, and I knew we had many things in common … we had studied music in college, we were married to sports enthusiasts, and we each were currently parenting teenagers, newborns, and several in between.

We greeted loudly that Saturday morning- giggly girls hugging hello, baby sisters screeching from car carriers, the other ladies chattering happily. My house was filled with cheery decorations and a sweet aroma. Rooms were tidy and the food was fully prepared. I welcomed her in with a smile.

Once the party had begun, she pulled me aside and asked if there was somewhere she could nurse her baby privately. Hmmmm. As dread replaced cheer, I forced the continuation of my smile.

Yes. I have a rocking chair in my room. That room that never got cleaned this week, that served as the staging area for most of this party's projects and preparation. That room that currently houses no fewer than four laundry baskets filled with all the random junk we collected from around the house as we cleaned. Oh, Dear Heavens, Yes, I have a place.

I looked her in the eye and confessed. "You are welcome to use my room. But if I let you see my room today, I must tell you, like it or not, you and I are about to become VERY close friends!"

At that point in my life I lived within a binding veil of perceived perfectionism. The truth of my messes was hidden away - safely out of sight. Very few folks had been granted access into the reality of my short-falls. But on that day, God used this glorified acquaintance to barge past the boundaries of my pride to offer acceptance and grace. Turning the knob to my bedroom opened a pathway to peace ... but it was hard. Exposing the cluttered mess surrounding my unmade bed - which symbolized other, less physical, areas of my life -  also exposed my fear of being known and rejected.

But there she went. Confident and gracious. She did not gasp in disbelief. She did not recoil with disgust. She happily high-stepped over a basket of [stuff], swayed with her infant while I tossed a pile of clothes away from the rocker, then she sunk into the chair and smiled a grateful grin as I slipped out of the room. 

We were SO gonna have to be BFFS after this.

Our friendship did grow quickly and easily in the fertile soil of humor and humility, strengthened by honesty, having been sprouted by the soaking, cleansing rains of unexpected transparency.

Over the years, we have each had opportunity to extend grace toward one another. She and I have enjoyed the freedom to speak our minds. At times we misunderstood each other. We caused each other hurt and confusion, but we always continued the conversation until it landed in a peaceful place. Sometimes we were sorting through my junk, other times we were hashing through hers. Many times we simply enjoyed the deep, true comfort of a smile and a wave from someone who knows you well ... and loves you anyway.

She shared parts of her most difficult journeys with me. She consistently offered me the truth of her humanity. She was honest about her struggles. She is gifted and talented and strong in so many ways, but has rarely shied away from treasuring her weaknesses in front of me.

A decade ago in January, I hit my lowest point, and had a smallish break-down. She was the person I called. I couldn't be sure how others might react to the ugly pit in which I had lost myself. Some might gloss over my plight and downplay the severity of the crisis. Others might absolutely panic in the thick, blinding smog of my recent emotional explosion.

She neither bolted nor belittled. She listened. She prayed. She said she'd be there if I needed to talk some more. And we journeyed onward.

I thank God for that birthday party and that breast-feeding baby. I thank God for not leaving my heart trapped behind the walls of denial and pride and fear. I am thankful for friends who courageously share who they really are, and graciously allow me to be who I truly am. 

As we allow our lives to braid together in the grit and grace of God's loving truth, we find ourselves enriched and sharpened - better prepared to wield the truth in love.

"As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another." Proverbs 27:17

"Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor: If either of them falls down, one can help the other up.
But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up." Ecclesiastes 4:10 

Before or Besides

Two stories.

Once upon a time, I was the mother to two preschool boys. One day I was helping them pick up their room and I quite literally stumbled upon a broken clothes pin - one wooden side with the now-meaningless spring still attached. Just as I was about to toss it in the trash, my son screamed, "Mom! Don't! That's my thingie!!"

Duly noted. Keep calm and tidy on. 

Later at the lunch table, I noticed he was having trouble holding his cup. As I tried to help him, I realized he had that silly clothes pin lodged into the palm of his clinched fist. I pried it from his milky grip and assured him that his treasured thingie would be safe on the counter until lunch was over.

Fifteen years later is the setting for our second story.

Several of us were relaxing in the living room when I began to smell something awful. (This in itself is not at all remarkable.) But, it was a suffocating stench ... thick and nauseating. Others began to gasp and react with eye-squinting puzzlement.

Our living room smelled like a musk ox bathing in a bucket of moth balls. We were pretty sure it was the teenage boy. The gagging reflexes had initiated as he walked in from work, And so I inquired.

"Honey, what's that smell?"

"Oh, that? It's my new cologne. Isn't it great?"

[Well, no, that is NOT great. And it is indeed NOT your new cologne because YOU live here, but THAT woeful concoction is about to leave this house.]

He went on to explain that a nice guy came to his work and was selling "name brand cologne for really cheap". And since he's been needing some new spray, he used what was left of his paycheck and bought the extra large bottle.

Mercy. [He took a shower immediately while we ran the air conditioner, opened the windows, and lit all the candles. The bottle was laid to rest in the dumpster, and his sister -who actually HAS use of her olfactory senses - accompanied him to the department store the next day;]

Ok. Two stories. One theme.

Idolatry.

Like the "eau de toilet", sometimes we are deceived. We are led astray by schemes that promise just what we think we need. We believe the lies. We give everything we have, and let it cover our lives - all the while placing our pride and confidence in our choice. But in the end, we've invested in worthless, counterfeit goods that do not deliver, and must be destroyed and replaced.

And other times, like with the "thingie", we are distracted. We find ourselves enamored by some small insignificant thing. But we highly regard it as a treasured companion through life. We take hold, and it dominates our thoughts and decisions. We raise its importance to an inappropriate level by never letting go. We choose to keep hold of it, even as it makes the truly important aspects of our lives challenging and cumbersome.

These are pictures of idolatry. Serving, setting our hearts upon, following after something or someone other than the One True God.

And I'll add this. Idolatry can also begin as a commitment to something good. Not a sinister deception or a stubborn preoccupation, but as a simple devotion ... to a wholesome, good gift from God.

Relationships can become idols when we look to people to provide for our every need, and to give our lives meaning and purpose. (That's God's job and He takes it very seriously.)

Some people defend the Truth - which is good. But, in their efforts to be right, they treat others with a harsh lack of respect that contradicts the nature of the God they profess to honor.

Even religion and morality can become false gods. People say, "I'm devoted to God," but the reality of their heart is "I love the attention I get when I serve."  Or, "Helping others soothes my own insecurities." Or, "I find my identity [not in Christ and His righteousness, but] in saying no to bad stuff and saying yes to good stuff."

It's tricky!

What is your thingie today? What is it that distracts you and demands inordinate amounts of your attention and affection? What if you asked God - the Supreme Power of the universe Who also wants to be your friend - to give you the courage to let it go?

Are you broken? Or maybe just broke and stinky? What if you humbled yourself to God - the Redeemer and Healer - and allowed Him to wash you, and provide everything you need for a fresh start?

Or are you so busy enjoying created things, living the "good life", that you have displaced and dismissed Creator God - the Father of Life - the Giver of all good and perfect gifts?

"Then God spoke these words:

I am the Lord your God, Who has brought you out of ... bondage.

You shall have no other gods before or besides Me." 

- Exodus 20, Amplified

Commission at Braum's

The dining room is almost full. People of every age and every energy level sit in groups of various sizes. Some chat as fries are dipped in sauce, some smile silently as ice cream cones dwindle in peace, and some meander toward refills of soda.

A frail, middle-aged woman with tattered clothes and a second-hand designer purse slips in through the sliding door. Her hair is thin and her make-up is noticeable. She stands quietly alone a few feet from the cashier's line.

People either see her or they don't, but body language around the room pays her no attention. Eyes nonchalantly scan, and curiosities are whispered between bites, while oblivion completely shields other ongoing conversations.

Minutes pass, and the couple waiting for their order in the front booth casually strike up a quiet conversation with the woman. Smiles and sentences are exchanged and then they separate again. The husband approaches the counter to place an additional order then returns to his tidy booth without very many people noticing.

Standing straight against the display of bread and fruit, the woman folds her hands together tightly at her waist and waits.

A few patrons find themselves making accidental eye contact once they have stared too long in her direction. Suppositions of her story stream through several head-ducked whisper discussions around the room.

One teenaged girl watches as the woman stands and waits alone. She mouths compassionate concern to her mom while thumbing through her wallet. Their non-verbal stratgizing is unclear yet unified and hesitant.

Just then, a number is called and the gentleman in the front booth collects the to-go bag and foam cup then hands them to the woman.

It seems like several folks are watching now, waiting to sum it up with her departure. But near the exit, she turns and walks to the corner booth where she slides into the seat to eagerly unpack her supper.

Heads seem to bow all around as she pauses before her first bite.
God bless this food and it's not polite to stare.

The teen still seems intent on engaging and has evidently been granted permission. She bundles her half-eaten sandwich and fries, grabs her drink, and approaches the woman's booth.

Like a silent film, eyebrows raise with humble offerings, hands pat the table in glad agreement, and the rigid unwrapping of sandwiches between strangers catches the attention of the crowd.

Everyone acts normal at their tables while 80's music plays through the ceiling speakers. But also, it is a muted freeze-frame of nervous curiosity and awe.

After a few minutes, the girl's mother makes a trip past the trash can and introduces herself to the woman. The woman smiles big and commends the mother on raising such a kind daughter. The girl shows signs of overwhelm as she explains to her mom that the woman is asking for money.

The mother gently touches the woman's shoulder as frantic hands roll through explanations and requests. It is the first time words are loud enough to be heard across the room. "If I just had a few dollars to buy lunch meat and some bread . . . And a flashlight . . ."

While the woman expresses her preference for cash, the mother's face asks her girl, "Are you good or are you ready to go?" The girl, seemingly comforted by her mother's support, smiles, "all good".

The mother excuses herself and goes to the grocery section of the store. She places a loaf of bread and a package of turkey on the cashier's counter. The employee's quizzical grin precedes her answer, "No, I don't believe we sell flashlights." She cinches the plastic bag, ties a knot, and smiles, "Thank you, and God bless this."

The dinner rush is over and the room is calm and quiet. A little boy and his grandmother sitting nearby have finished their cones and are almost ready to leave. The grandmother clears the table and gathers her purse and sweater as she monitors the boy's solo trip to the counter. He loosens the velcro of his man-sized wallet to pay and zip up the change.

He walks with purpose and care to deliver the chocolate ice cream cone to the woman in the booth with the teen. She gasps with delight and hugs the little boy as if they are family. He blushes brave to receive his thanks and runs back to clasp hands with his grandma so they can go home.

The mother carrying groceries passes the little boy on her way back to the booth. Setting the bag on the table, she agrees with the woman in the joy of the unexpected sweet treat, and nods to her daughter that it's time to go.

And they go.

As we go. Into our world. Whether "Braum's" is our workplace or dinner spot or pit-stop traveling through . . .

"Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it." Hebrews 13:2