Bobsled Time

Vivian took this candid picture of me at the office last week. It makes me laugh every time I see it.  

This is the one week out of every year that almost feels impossible, the one week when we start juggling with our hands AND feet.

I won't wade into details here. I don't have time and details aren't too important.

I will say that big picture wise this week is Christmas Village, a wonderful event for us, that consists of six eleven hour on our feet workdays. It also happens that each year Christmas Village coincides with National Orphan Sunday, a special day for ministries like ours that emphasize impacting the live of the orphans. Many of our awesome Ornaments4Orphans coordinators put up their O4O trees on National Orphan Sunday so we've been bustling around the office for days packing boxes that we sent to Tennessee, Alabama, Pennsylvania, Georgia, Mississippi, New Hampshire and the Carolinas!

Those are the two main dishes with side dishes piling up beside, begging for attention.

I'm not looking for pity. We know this is coming. Every year this week of Christmas Village/Orphan Sunday is a nice red block on our calendar. We prepare for it as best we can, but like bobsledders at some point we just have to jump in the sled and hunker down for the ride.

Please keep us in your prayers. I'll come up for air when I can and keep everyone posted on what is taking place in our corner of the world. There will be an Orphan Sunday post later this week which will include the new Ornaments4Orphans promotional video!  Make sure to swing by for that.

The Problem is Myself

I get exposed when I least expect it. Like when I'm sitting in my counselor's office telling her something I think is insightful and instead of nodding her head she comments that what I said sounds judgmental. I'm not a judgmental person. I'm not. I'm just not. No. What? Where the did that come from? Is that me?

God's portable cat scan machine had appeared in the room and instead of showing a thumping, vibrant thing of a heart, I saw something that looked much closer to an early scene in How the Grinch Stole Christmas, a puny, shriveled up balloon heart. Here I am acting like Katherine Hepburn in Bringing Up Baby, strutting haughtily across the restaurant, only to realize the back of my gown is missing. It dawned on me in that moment that perhaps the greatest problem in my life is actually me.

This exposure, this realization that what I think is health is actually rotten, throws me into a panic. I want to dive under a table and get myself straightened out before returning to view. I write myself a mental note: Don't be judgmental. Add to that: Plan to never be judgmental ever again. Also: Don't let anyone know you were judgmental. If you absolutely have to, put it in a nice frame so that it looks better. A generic frame that looks expensive. Then shove it in the attic once everyone's gone.

These resolutions help appease me, but the real difficulty is that I didn't realize I was being judgmental until it was too late. How could I have prevented it if I didn't even know I was doing it? My only solution starts to look very Emily Dickinsonish. Utter solitude. I will have to stop talking to other human beings altogether. It seems the only 100% guaranteed way to keep from mucking everything up.

Watch Katherine Hepburn back into a pillar, stuttering and fumbling while the crowd roars. That's me. I don't know if the crowd is roaring, but in my egocentric head it sounds that way. I will tell you that when you work full time in ministry it feels as if the crowd that is watching you is so incredibly large, and everyone is really counting on you to pull through. Keep your slip from showing, act graceful, smile. The places to take cover feel scarce, the answers you feel you must provide are numerous. What if everyone finds out you're just as, if not more so, screwed up as they are?

I have gotten tired. I am so tired of making excuses for myself, of rounding up my reasons, of attempting to fix my image, to hide the holes in my exterior so no one sees how inadequate I am. Lately it feels like all I am is one big gaping hole. I'm not enough. I am starting to own that I never will be. I am owning it, not just giving it lip service because I know I should. Isn't that what most of us do if we're honest? It's almost as if talking about how sinful we are is one of those reliable patches we use to cover our bare parts. It's insurance.

What I want to do more than anything is to stop bumbling. I want to stand up on a chair, lift my arms toward the sky and shout in my ugliness:

"Christ is my righteousness!"

He is! He really is! His righteousness envelops me like a big robe. In it I can go anywhere, I can do anything without constantly checking my behind. I can, if I'll only believe it. This is what he came for, of course. To set us free.

Two nights ago Vivian said from across the room, "I wish our life wasn't like this."

I stopped what I was doing, startled that she was reading my thoughts.

"What makes you say that? Did you hear that somewhere?"
"No."
"Tell me what you mean. Why don't you want our life to be this way?"
"Well, sometimes you be's mean, and I be's mean and Daddy be's mean. Why do we be's mean like that? Why don't we just love each other and be nice always?"

I sat her in my lap, stunned. I considered tying it all up for her in some gospel tract bow, but why? She is four and without my telling her she knows we are not the way we are supposed to be. I want to tell her I am twenty-eight and still feel the same way and I'm worried that at forty-eight nothing will have changed. My biggest problem will still be me. And she, like me, wants so very much to have it all right. She hides. She blames. She tries to look pretty.

So what I pray in my heart as I hold her is help us. Not help us do better, but help us believe. Help us cope in faith with these aches we'll always have if we're honest. Help us know we are covered at no cost and we're free. Be our righteousness. Be our peace. Be all the things we can never be. Amen.

"It is for FREEDOM that Christ has set you FREE. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be  burdened again by a yoke of slavery." Galatians 5:1

What You Might or Might Not Care to Know

So that yard sale in Atlanta I mentioned waaaaaaaay back in July? It raised $13,604. Plus there's still some trickling in from consignment and craigslist. We were pretty blown away. Thought I should probably get around to telling everyone.

Since I last wrote here Scott has been to Uganda and back. My classy grandmother turned ninety years old (and still has better posture than I do.)

My younger sister is pregnant with #2. My kid has grown an inch and now says things like "back when I was little" and "BFF." What?!

We're wearing boots and sweaters and starting to mail out boxes full of Christmas ornaments for Ornaments4Orphans. It's fun now, but by the time December 1st rolls around the sight of a Christmas tree will make my skin crawl. It's a hazard of the job.

Speaking of Vivian, we're letting her go trick-or-treating for the first time.

Me: Do you know what trick-or-treating is?
V: No. (Eyes full of wonder)
Me: You get dressed up and go knock on people's doors. Then they give you candy.
V: You go to people's houses!? Oh goodie, let's go to Polly's house.
Me: You don't go to your friend's houses. You go to your neighbors or strangers.
V: You go to strangers?
Me: Yes. With your parents. You don't go in. You stand outside the door and say "trick-or-treat!"
V: Can I tell them my name?
Me: I guess.
V: Can I meet them? Can I talk to them a while?

Did you noticed that she has said nothing about getting free candy? She's four years old and more interested in socializing than Skittles. Halloween is her extroverted dream come true. I'll be happy to take all those Skittles off her hands while she chit-chats.

I haven't read a novel in over a month. I think it's making me anemic. The longer I go without reading one the more anxious I get. Which one do I choose first? What if when I start reading I become so engrossed that my kid ends up scrubbing her entire rock collection with her toothbrush?

In other news, my library is having a book sale this weekend and I have been counting down the days all month. I'm going to purchase more cheap books that I will feel guilty and anxious about not reading.

The Vice Presidential debate is about to start so I'm breaking out in hives. Political debates stress me out. I feel physically uncomfortable for both participants. My heart rate goes up knowing how crucial this performance is, what they have at stake and how much pressure they are under as they're speaking. I walked out of the room ten times while Romney and Obama were going at it. Some may say that I have an overblown fear of conflict. I say that I am just the nicest person on the planet. Although whenever an NPR journalist happened to mention the presidential candidates rehearsing for their debate performances I got the giggles. Sometimes I laughed just thinking about it.

Lately I've not felt like saying anything. I've felt like pulling away and being alone and keeping thoughts to myself. I think that makes me introverted. Or a turtle.

Sometimes seeds have to grow a while before you can harvest them. This is also true of thoughts and words. We live in such an instantaneous age. Everyone is slinging content around, trying to be louder, righter, insightfuler. (That's not a real word?) I am trying to think about where my roots are right now and not be so concerned about my branches.  

It was tough at first and then became easier. It has been good for me. Just wanted to stop by so everyone knows I'm alright. Now to tune into the debate coverage and shield my eyes.