Red Balloons

Let me get this right out in the open.  I'm not a crier. 

I bet you're shocked.  Well, it's true!  I am not a crier.  I am not a weeper.  Yes, I cry.  Yes, sometimes I even weep.  I have even sobbed on occasion.  Some of you have been there for it, most of you will never see me even well up.

Well, that is unless you were in church this morning.

This morning was Pentacost Sunday, and in true United Methodist fashion, we celebrated with balloons.  No, actually it was really cool.  Balloons lined the staircases, and there were plenty for every child to take one home. 

So this all began, of course, with a balloon.

A red balloon to be specific.  Our Senior Pastor carried it up front with him this morning to make sure the kids saw the balloon, and to make sure that every child knew that they could take one home with them.  So he held the balloon up front during the morning announcements, handing it to our Associate after he made his point.  When our Associate got up to begin the call to worship, he handed it back to the Senior Pastor.  Therein began the problem, so the Senior Pastor got my attention, and he asked me to come get the balloon and pass it on to someone else.

Now, since it was Memorial Day weekend, there weren't a whole lot of children in the congregation, but as I scanned the room, my eyes fell on one little girl.  As I began to walk toward her, her eyes lit up in excitement and she reached for the balloon, so excited to be chosen.  So her parents tied the balloon to her wrist.

Great so far?  I'm not to the welling up yet.  Just wait...it's coming!

I was giving the children's sermon this morning, having switched with someone else.  I wasn't even on the schedule today, but I am so glad the other person wasn't able to do it.

When the children came up, here came the child with the red balloon.  Keep in mind that she is in preschool, and isn't more than four years old.

Our kids kneel at the rail for children's sermon, and today we of course talked about the Holy Spirit who came like a mighty rushing wind.  We talked about how we can't see the wind, but we can see what the wind does to those things around us.  How we can't see God with our eyes, but we can see the good God does all around us.  Of course, I had to turn on a fan with streamers attached to it to illustrate my point, because that's just what I do!  A great time was had by all. 

I ended with a prayer, and when I said "Let us Pray", the little girl with the red balloon scrunched her eyes up so tightly and folded her hands and was praying so, so hard.  After the "Amen", most of the children returned right to their seats.  Except the girl with the red balloon.  I put the microphone down and I turned to see her asking me to come closer.  I bent down and said, "What's up sweetie?" 

And do you know what that sweetie said?  In her four year and four hundred year old wisdom, she leaned in and whispered to me...

"God does everything good in our lives."

See, tears.  Even now, 10 hours later, I am still welling up.  What wisdom!  What observance!  "God does everything good in our lives." 

Think about all those good things in your life.  Family?  God.  Friends?  God.  Church?  God.  Pets?  God.

God does everything good in our lives.  Shame on me that it took a four year old to remind me.

Be sick...be loved.

T

Clumsy Thumbsy

(One thing to know before you read this is that I wrote this on Saturday while I was at a youth retreat.  I was running on 3 hours sleep and so it may not make a whole lot of sense.  But reading back through it now before I posted on here, I'm impressed at how much sense it actually makes!)

Sometimes I end up with some major texting fails.  I know I'm not alone in this regard because I have texted back and forth with a lot of people, and we have all done it.  Autocorrect is a gift...and a curse.  More than once I have told a kid that I would be picking them up in a black Sub...instead of a black SUV.  There are moments that make you laugh, and sometimes moments that make you want to send what you have written into the Ellen show.

I've gone through several of those in the last couple of days.  I will tell this one on myself, because it was my clumsy thumbsy that made it happen.

A friend of mine texted me and wondered if I wanted to come over for dinner on Thursday night.  I was teasing her, pretending I was saying that I wasn't sure I wanted to spend time with her or her family...which of course I very much did.  Finally I asked her, "Would you like me to come over for dinner? "  She said sure, so I said..."I'd love tit."  

Now, typically this is a "G" rated blog, but let me just say, I lost it.  And I know I wasn't the only one who did.  My friend and I were both laughing so hard we were crying, which is the absolute best kind of laughter.

So that's my Clumsy Thumbsy...or at least my latest one.  But I have other texting fails.

I moved recently, and when you move, you tend to go through things that you packed as you attempt to unpack.  For me, some of my stuff had not been unpacked since I packed it when I left Arkansas almost two years ago (still can't believe it has been that long).  Even some of that has been packed even longer.  And just a couple of weeks ago, I used one of my boxes to illustrate a point in a children's sermon.  So the other day, it was in my office and I went to get something out of it when I really started looking at it.  And I found something I have not thought about in a very long time.  I found my poetry book from when I was 13 years old.

A lot of you didn't know me back then.  When I was a kid, I wanted to be a writer.  I would write poetry a lot.  Now...it was bad poetry.  Not bad as in I couldn't share it with my grandmother, but bad as in pathetic.  And with that journal, I found another one that my friend had bought me in college.  I texted her to show her what I had found, and as I was reading through the pages of the journal (there weren't very many written on because I'm really bad at journaling), started thinking how pathetic I was in college.  So I tore those pages out.  I mentioned to my friend that I was pathetic in college, and at first she texted back that we all have our pathetic moments.  But then she got to thinking.

She wrote to me that pathetic wasn't really a good word.  We were who we were back then, and we learn from who we were.  We would not be the people we are today, if we hadn't been the people we were back then.  Does that make sense?

If a kid came to me today and told me their problems, and they happened to be the same problems that I had back in college, would I call them pathetic?  Or would I uphold them in love and grace, embrace them in their brokenness?  

Looking back, I still have a lot of the same issues that I did back then.  Would I call myself pathetic now?  Sometimes I want to.  Sometimes it's hard not to let the negative thoughts creep back in.  The feeling of insecurity.  The fear that I have disappointed or hurt my friends in some way.  The wanting so hard to please everyone and be all things to all people.  

Jesus doesn't think I'm pathetic.  He thinks I'm human.  He loves me in ways that I can't imagine.  He loves you in ways you can't imagine.  And God created us to be.  The creator of the world knows our name, created us in his image.  God don't make junk.  God don't make pathetic.  Clumsy Thumbsy on me for calling myself pathetic.  God don't make pathetic.  

For everyone out there today...Be sick...be loved.

T

PS.  I realized today that I have over 1300 views of this blog.  I know 1000 of them came from me, but for the 300 times the rest of you have viewed this blog, I want to say I appreciate it.  Please feel free to share it with your friends if it speaks to you in any way!

Be Sick...Be loved

I woke up yesterday feeling really good.

I was alive...always a good thing.  I had a good night's sleep and when I got on the scale in the morning, I was down another 1.2 pounds, which means I had made it past -60 pounds!  I was at -60.4.  I don't care what anyone says...that .4 is very important!  Even better, I knew I would be heading to not one, but two doctor's appointments in Charleston very shortly, and they are both doctors who have to look at my weight. 

Don't you hate weighing in at the doctor's office?  I mean...when you're weighing in the comfort of your own home, it doesn't matter what you wear.  I will admit, I weigh in with nothing on.  I mean...that watch of mine adds ounces...one point of that .4 pounds might have been because I took my watch off before I weighed in, right?

Well, then you go to the doctor's office and what do they make you do?  First thing...weigh in.  And you have to weigh in as is...I mean...they don't even have you take your shoes off!  Don't they know how much shoes weigh?!  My mother told me one time that when the doctor weighs you in, they only account a half a pound for your clothing.  A half of a pound?  My watch weighs more than a half of a pound!  So how happy was I that my first doctor's appointment just let me tell them what I weighed in at this morning...but they rounded up to the nearest full pound which means I lost my .4...small price to pay.  I wasn't so lucky at the second doctor.  It was after lunch and they made me stand up on the scale to weigh in...they wouldn't just let me tell them.  So of course, I was heavier because I had just eaten lunch...and I was fully clothed!

Well, enough about that.  Bottom line is that my doctor's appointments went fine.  My numbers for my kidneys were pretty good...they are functioning close to half, which is an improvement.  My thyroid levels were low which means my thyroid was slightly overactive and she needed to cut my medication back a dose...again.  I'm ok with that!  The more weight I lose, the less thyroid medication I need.  The protein level in my urine is getting much better.  For those of you who don't know about that, they do a spot urine test that tells the level of protein.  Lots of protein = bad.  The normal level for this is supposed to be between 0 and 17.  Last April (2011), mine was 790.  Waaayyyyyy bad.  In November, when I went back to the kidney doctor, it was 118.  Wayyyyyyy better, but still high.  Yesterday it was 42.  Lots better...still high...but lots better.  Amazing what happens when you take care of yourself!

Now comes the sick part.  In my profession, I get confessed to a lot.  Children, youth, adults...strangers...doesn't matter.  In fact, I get confessed to in the line at the grocery store...which is slightly awkward.  I think I have a sign on my forehead that says "attention all strangers, tell me your life story."  Which is fine.  Usually I don't mind.  But this time I know the person who confessed to me.  And it wasn't the confession that threw me off.  I learned a long time ago when you tell someone that they can tell you anything to be prepared for...well....anything.  I've heard some doozies over the years.  No...what got me about this confession was the way that it started. 

It started with, "Tracie, please don't hate me for this." 

Hate you?  I would never hate you!  I was slapped in the face one time by an incident at church, and I told myself right then I would never let a youth feel the way I felt at that moment.  Alone, lost, dropped.  I promised myself I would never let a kid feel that way.  I may have failed at that sometimes over the years, but I wasn't going to this time.

That makes me think of the gospel.  There is a great blogger named Jonathan Acuff.  He writes a blog called Stuffchristianslike.net.  It's an amazing blog and very insightful.  Mostly satire, but there are posts that he likes to call "Serious Wednesdays".  In one of those "Serious Wednesdays" posts, he sums up the gospel in four words.  Words that I have adopted lately and believe with all of my heart that he is correct in.  Those words are...Be sick...be loved.  Jesus didn't come for the well, for the whole.  He came for the sick.  He came for the broken.  We can be sick.  In that moment, the moment of our coming to Him in our sickness, in our brokenness, we are loved.  We don't have to be perfect to come to Him.  In fact, there's no way we can be perfect.  We are sick.  We are broken.  Yet the amazing thing about it, we are loved. 

That is what I told this person.  I don't care about your brokenness.  I don't care what you've done.  You can be sick around me.  We are all sick.  But you are loved.

I have learned some amazing lessons this week.  The wonders of God and His timing never cease to amaze me.  God knows what we need right when we need it, and for that, I will always be grateful.  I didn't know I was looking for something, but God showed me what I needed.  Our God is an Awesome God....indeed.

So for everyone out there today...

Be Sick...Be Loved.

T