faithuntamed

Faith Untamed

  • This morning I am sitting on my front porch.

    Next to me is a glass table holding a plant I cannot name, a paperback romance, my cell phone, and a glass of tea. My dog barks at a neighborhood boy on a bicycle. I can hear birds chirping everywhere. I smell Fabuloso floor cleaner, Mr. Clean, and a mix of wet dirt and just rained, morning air.

     I spent the morning cleaning and now I can just chill on my porch for the rest of the day.

    Spring Break is a beautiful thing.

    I am just a tad chilly in my jeans, t-shirt and my flannel shirt that is pretending to be a jacket.

     My pretend flannel jacket/shirt that has two pairs of glasses in my pocket. One pair for reading, one for seeing, and my computer glasses are currently on the top of my head.

    Wow. Three pairs of glasses. Each one assisting me to see different parts of the world more clearly.  Unfortunately, none of these help me see my music during orchestra rehearsals. Do I (gasp) need a fourth pair for seeing sheet music?

    Last rehearsal, I kept leaning into my stand partner’s arm to see the music. You know, the arm that is moving up and down the neck of the violin to play notes. After apologizing for the gazillionth time, my stand partner assured me that he had difficulty seeing also. I mean look, he says the notes are extra tiny on this piece.(I think he was being polite) He assured me he was bringing a light to place on our music stand next rehearsal.

    The violinist behind me just laughed. Forget it. Nicole, you just need your own stand with a light on your head.  Gotta love the support of fellow musicians.

    So, yes. A visit to the optometrist to get orchestra glasses is in order.

    I am telling you about my declining vision, because this Lent I chose to give up coveting. I want to see clearer. To see what my world looks like if I become more aware of the things, circumstances, situations I covet.

    I feel like I am spending WAAY too much time on Amazon. I am trying to buy the life I want instead of just living it. I spend too much time on Zillow..wondering what it would be like to have a home of our own, or another place to rent..

    Relationships? I covet what appear to be healthy/authentic/enjoyable adult-children’s relationships that some of my friends have cultivated. Relationships where they see their kids and grandkids all the time.

     As I realize the circumstances I am putting as larger than God, I feel covetous. The circumstances in which I am unappreciative. I feel guilty. I feel ungrateful. This realization spiralsl into shame…which leads to more retail therapy…back to Amazon, back to Zillow. How do I buy the life I desire?

    When this year’s lenten season started, I was like Okay, God…help me see all the areas I am covetous. Uhm..and gently please.

    I wonder what covetousness is, exactly.

    I looked up definitions on Google. So many variations..from doing something you shouldn’t to obtain an object to, what I think I was struggling with. Turning your desire for some thing, circumstance, or situation to change that the desire becomes a false idol. Covetousness.

    That God is not enough.

    And there it was. My new lens to see through. Did I really believe that God is not enough?

    Did I believe that God wasn’t enough because I had some children that don’t keep in touch as much as I would like? Children that are NOT afraid to tell me what is really going on. What their opinions are, when they are stressed, when they are excited. Children who aren’t afraid to say Mom, I’m going to be really busy, so it will be awhile before we can talk.

    I read an article from a mom who saw her children every week and had no idea what was going on with them. I realized that my weekly text thread, and periodic visits were very real. I was wanting quantity over quality.

    I used to pray that my own children would never be afraid to tell me what they really thought. I realize this prayer has been answered. I just don’t always like what I hear.

    How many other answered prayers am I living?

    My home, the one I keep complaining about. The home with no central air or heat. The home with slanted floors and electrical outlets that don’t work. Hot Stuff and I prayed for this home. Why? Because we wanted space for our family and friends. AND because I LOVE this front porch!

    This neighborhood. The one with a cat colony(ugh), and airplanes flying overhead all the time.

    I prayed to live in this neighborhood years before I moved here. At the time I was living in a small, Tx. hill-country town. I wanted desperately to move back to the city in which I grew up. I missed living in a city.

     To know what a healthy, real, loving and kind marriage is. To know what it is like to be married to a best friend. Answered prayer.

    The weirdo dog that I get irritated with? An answered prayer

     A small prayer. Hey God, I wonder what it’s like to have a cat…

    That week, the weirdo dog, led us to a stranded kitten. There had been a crazy storm the night before. The dog led us to a kitten, stranded in a puddle.

    A kitten that Hot Stuff never wanted and now can’t stand to leave at home.

    Wanna go to dinner? I’ll ask Hot Stuff on the way home from work.

    Sweetie…the pets. The cat’s gonna be mad. I’ll cook dinner.

    Yup. The cat that now rules our house.

     An answered prayer.

    My job? I wonder what it would be like to work at the zoo?   

    What do you know, lupus and all. Makes no sense, but I get a job with the zoo. Still in education, but the zoo none-the-less. Answered prayer.

    Hot Stuff’s job as a pool tech. Albinism and all, still makes no sense. My husband applied on a whim. Turned out, his (now) supervisor, is an old friend. Answered prayer.

    The first day of my Spring Break, Hot Stuff and his friends practiced music at our house.

    The house we prayed for was filled with praise music. A house filled with laughter, seriousness, music and deep friendship.

    God has given me a new lens to look through this Lent.

    I hope I don’t lose sight of this new clarity.

  • I didn’t mean to let an entire month pass.

    I am currently participating in a 90-day novel writing challenge. I am technically on day 29.

    This is me in my favorite writing spot. I clock out of work and plant myself at this picnic table a couple days a week. The weather has been beautiful and I have quite enjoyed myself.

    90 days to write a book? Not quite true.

    To clarify, I had been working on project “Captain Sasha” for 3 years before I decided to participate in this “90-day challenge”. To say “I am writing a first, completed and edited draft in 90 days” is a flat out lie.

    I am stating this, because I recently ran an application on my draft of Captain Sasha. This application shows words I use too/most frequently. I expected it to say that I had overused words like “that” or “from”. What was generated was “truth”.

    “Truth”

    Sure enough. I had used the word “truth” at least 8 times in less than 2 chapters. (and just an fyi, I counted..I use the word at least 10 times here)

    Good grief!

    I am a firm believer that a good work of fiction is only believable when grounded in truth. But this was ridiculous.

    I wondered what underlying theme I was subconsciously wrestling with.

    Project Sasha is a story of a precocious 12-year-old girl and her peers who become child pirates as they evade a feared civilian militia.

    A way for me to write the stories of undocumented minors/justice department kiddos/refugees and former gang members that I have befriended over the years. Stories I am not at liberty to share.

    Stories that humanize those we marginalize.

    Stories I can tell in a fictionalized, environmentally-devastated future, with pirates. Who doesn’t like a good pirate story?

    Truth.

    As I did a little more soul searching, I kept wondering why truth is so important to me?

    As a domestic violence survivor, I realize that truth is important to me because finally owning my truth, has cost me much.

    After years of simultaneously being gaslighted and choosing denial, I finally owned my reality.

    I spoke truth to those who asked. I kept quiet as a host of untruths, attacks against my character and downright crazy rumors, came my way.

    I owned my mistakes.

    Recognizing the reality of my circumstances made people uncomfortable. Speaking honestly when asked made people uncomfortable. Sometimes, the truth isn’t comfortable.

     Speaking truth labeled me as “too” (excitable, dramatic, sensitive, imaginative, fill in blank here). It led to an entire community and some family believing incredulous stories about me. It led to the realization that people I thought knew me, didn’t know me at all.

    Speaking truth labeled me “a liar.” (the irony here)

    It cost me relationships I still value.

    Yet, despite the costs, recognizing and speaking my truth set me free. Free from living in denial. Free to breathe without fear. Free to remember who I am and WHOSE I am.  (John 1:12, Ephesians 2:10, Ephesians 1:4)

    I turn to scripture often. Whenever I am worried, stressed, tired, or anxious. I turn to the Word.

     Why? Because even though Dr. Google is convenient. Dr. Google doesn’t help. Dr. Google? Isn’t truth…and I really do value honesty.

    Dr.Google tells me to cut people off, or to abandon myself and make peace.  Dr. Google tries to sell me healing books, remedies, strategies and courses on family healing.

    The word of God says  For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind (2 Timothy 1:7)

    God reminds me that I have been gifted with faith, mercy, love and a sound mind. I am grateful for those gifts.

    The word of God is truth (John 17:17)

    Our news stations, our social media, our internet are full of noise. I encourage you, dear reader, to give your heart and soul a breather. If you crave truth?  Turn to the Word.

    Jesus answered’I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me’ (John 14:6)

    All your words are true; all your righteous laws are eternal. (Psalm 119:160)

    The LORD detests lying lips, but he delights in people who are trustworthy (Proverbs 12:22)

    Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free. (John 8:32)

    Go ahead and take a read. I dare you;)

  • When asked who I relate to the most in the bible? Hands down, the answer is the Samaritan woman at the Well. (John 4:1-40)

    It was not always this way.

    For years I thought I was more like Miriam. (Exodus) A carer for siblings (Exodus 2:1-10), a musician and prophetess (Exodus 15:20-21)

    But then it happened. I hit my rock-bottom when I was in my early 40’s.

    I was in a marriage that was beyond repair. I believed in the sanctity of marriage and was simply going to hang in for the “worse” part of “better or worse”

    Then?  I did the unthinkable and after 22 years of marriage, I stepped into the arms of another man.

     The affair that lasted several months. I absolutely hated myself. Finally, i just couldn’t anymore.

    I left this guy stranded at a campground and returned home. Confessing all to my first husband.

     I had betrayed the trust of my family. Hurt the people I love most.

    “How?” I would ask myself. “How did I get here?”

    I knew I was in over my head. I began a 12 step program and therapy. I immersed myself in deep study of the women of the bible. I’m talking hours a day for almost 3 years.

    One day my therapist said, “Nicole, you have over 40years of bottled-up dysfunction and it spilled out in the form of an affair,” . It was only after her insight that I could begin the journey of forgiving myself.

    I began the lifelong work of understanding codependency. Understanding and owning my part. I am still a work in progress.

    As  I developed more social and emotional tools, I acknowledged it was time to leave my marriage.

    It was an AWFUL separation. If it could go wrong, it did. Family shunning, smear campaigns, safety issues, job losses,..it was an unending nightmare.

    During this time, Hot Stuff stood by my side. Hot Stuff, my friend and now husband.

    Hence husband number two.

    A man whom I had met in prison years before. A man who had committed a pawn shop robbery when he was in his early 20’s. The kindest, gentlest, and strongest man-of -faith I knew.

    Still, what my family saw was a mom who had cheated and then left for a guy who had been in prison.

     It is easy to see why I became a social pariah. The “woman at the well” so to speak.

    “I am not worthy to be loved by you.” I tell God. “I have alienated my family and failed bringing them closer in relationship with you”

    “Yes” God replies. “And now you are with another.”

    “I have hurt the people I love the most.” I tell God. “Yes” God replies. “I see you. I choose you. Go and tell others what I have done for you.”

    I am reminded of this because even though Hot Stuff and I have been married for almost a decade, I still have family members and previous friends who see me as reckless and selfish.

    I am still held in unforgiveness by some.

    And yes, it hurts.

    To be seen as unworthy ALWAYS hurts.

    But here’s the thing, what is gossip for some, is now my testimony.

    I KNOW what I have been forgiven for. I KNOW that I can’t do this thing called life in my own strength. Many people don’t ever have this gift of KNOWING.

    So to me? My faith is very real. It is a gift to be seen in your vulnerability and be accepted. To be a vulnerable warrior.

    I had a friend tell me once that the reason the womAn was by herself at the well was because she was not allowed to be with the womEn at the well. The womEn went together for social and safety reasons.

     The womAn was “uninvited”, “didn’t make the cut”, “unworthy”…

    “I am unworthy” she tells Jesus.

    “I am unworthy” I tell Jesus.

    I would much rather be the womAn at the well than the women. Unfortunately, there are seasons in my life I have been the women.

     I have learned to forgive myself for that as well. To do better moving forward.

     By the Grace of God, I have learned that owning  my mistakes and learning from them is all any of us can do. I have been gifted with courage, unconditional love, and emotional bravery.

    Thank you, God, for  meeting me at the well.

  • It is 20ish degrees outside in my South Texas City. The streets are covered in ice.

    I wake up super early this morning to spend some time with God.

    Family events, personal events, national events. All bitter sweet. Bitter because there is so much heartbreak. Sweet because, well, there is love mixed into all of it.

    I have a new grand child. My heart is pierced with a painful love. I am so in love, yet family estrangements make it difficult for me to be a part of her life.

    I think of all the children at work.. I wonder, how do I protect my students, my neighbors, my family? I research what legal safeguards are still in place.

    I watch the political violence in Minneapolis.

     I am mortified.

    I simply cannot fathom any way/time/circumstance in which  political violence against the vulnerable is considered acceptable. Yet I have seen this violence played out my entire life. In Timisoara, Romania as a child, in Los Angeles, CA, US in my twenties, all along our Southern Borders for the past decade and a half..

    I wish, so very much, that we would learn from our mistakes in history.

    I pray.

    “Dear One (for this is how I refer to God in my prayer journals) What do I do with this? What is my part? How do I stay involved with a grandchild with whom I have no access? How do I cultivate unity in my family? In my neighborhood? How do I stay true to my social conscience and to you?”

    I turn to Mathew 6:9-13   I read, and re-read the Lord’s prayer.

    I ask..”How do I really walk this out?”

    So here it is..my super personalized Lord’s Prayer. Paraphrased by…me.

     Our father who art in heaven   
    Dear One  in heaven

    Hallowed be thy name
    Please reveal yourself to me and my family, so we may all draw closer in relationship to you, each other and the world around us.

    Your kingdom come. Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.
     Help me love my neighbor and welcome the stranger. Help me advocate for the vulnerable,  act mercifully and walk humbly today.

    Give us this day our daily bread.
     Thank you for my literal “bread” of breakfast tacos this morning and my spiritual “bread” of life, love and laughter today.

    Forgive us our trespasses
          Please open my eyes to those I have hurt. Give me wisdom to ask for forgiveness and make amends.

    As we forgive those who have trespassed against us
    Please remove seeds of bitterness or resentment I have in my heart to those who continue to hurt me, intentionally or not. Help me in my unforgiveness.

    Lead us not into temptation
    Please keep me away from amazon…  Please help me not to desire things, people or circumstances that are not for me. Help me accept and celebrate my life as it is right now.

    Deliver us from evil
    Please give me the wisdom and understanding to navigate malicious intent.

    Amen.

    I love you.

  •  It is always process for me to land on a word as a yearly intention. A word I try to sew deep in my heart as a navigate my day-to-day life.

    This year’s search for my “word” started with surface desires. I want to take my writing seriously for a year. See where it leads. I want to join the community orchestra because I miss playing with an orchestra.

    But also, I keep thinking about Jehoshaphat, King of Judah. (2 Chronicles)

     I was driving home from work one afternoon, when the DJ said, ‘or we could be like Jehoshapha, saying “hey, why don’t we try letting God in..” 

    I do not know much about Johosaphat, so I turn to Scripture and look him.

    As I read the story, I realize this is a story about intentionally letting God in at both at times of rise and times of conflict.  It is also a story about how we fail when we try to rely on our own strength. When we forget to Let God In.

    Hot Stuff and I discuss what it looks like to intentionally let God in. My dear husband says, “It’s simple. Just surrender everything and wait.”

    I am like, “Ugh, there must be more to it.” Truth is, I am a very action-oriented girl. Sitting and waiting has never been my strong point.

    I spend a bit of time reflecting on what  “letting God IN” is. It feels more like a path than an intention.  When I land on a word for the year I pray. I pray until I get a knowing in my spirit.

    I did not have the knowing. Just a “Yup, Nicole…don’t forget to let me in.” from God.

    Then?  I listened to an Abiding Together podcast on Cultivating Unity. It was one of a Three-part series on cultivating. Cultivating peace, beauty and unity.

    As I listened, I knew that my word for this upcoming year was simple. A year of cultivating.

    Cultivating my heart to understand the difference between anger and contempt. To actively listen to those in front of me. Especially those with differing opinions about things I hold dear. To ask, (in the words of St. Francis of Assisi) how can I “listen to understand rather than be understood”?

    How do I recognize and step away from gossip in the family, among friends, in the workplace?

    How do I cultivate grace within my heart in a world that is becoming more polarized by the second?

    This is where Jehosaphat comes back…

     I make the intention to remember to let God into all aspects of my life…my relationships, my finances, my work choices, my listening.  I am intentional in cultivating the grace of God in my heart. Because without that grace, I cannot hope to cultivate peace, beauty and unity within myself and my immediate surroundings.

    I look up cultivate in the Oxford Dictionary; try to acquire or develop (a quality, sentiment, or skill)

    I get to cultivate the grace of God in my heart. I look forward to knowing God more intimately as I take the time this year, to see the obstacles of grace within my heart.

    Cultivating grace is an inward act, the dig deep and lean on God part. But what about action? After all, I am still an action-oriented person. I believe “tactile learner” or “a bit hyper-active” are other words for this.

    I feel this is the year that I dig deep and cultivate my writing. I wonder how writing fiction fits with cultivating unity, peace, beauty.

    And then I hear a TED talk on ecological imagination and the need for more ecological science fiction.

    Yay, because that is what I have been playing with these past few years. A story of child pirates in an ecologically imagined future. A writing project I put aside this past summer and just recently picked back up.

    Just as the talks on CULTIVATING resonated with my heart, this challenge resonated as well.

    My action for the year is just that.  To complete the manuscript for project Captain Sasha. I have spent this past week, beginning the deeper research on the effects of global warming as I attempt to create a more scientifically accurate world for my young fictional pirate friends. The more I research, the deeper the rabbit trail goes.

    While my overactive imagination can often get me in trouble, this time, I believe it can help. AND I just happen to LOVE research projects. So here we go, God and I. Using my weaknesses as a strength. After all, isn’t that what we are all called to do?

    To lead with our weaknesses? Lots of room for God that way. No delusion of simply relying on my own strength because it’s not quite there.

    God says,” Hey, you want an action item? Come, follow me. Let’s CULTIVATE your writing, shall we? Let’s have some fun and I’ll show you how to do your part in caring for my creation.” (Genesis 1:26-28, Leviticus 25:1-7)

    Looking forward to 2026’s journey of intentional cultivating.

    Can’t wait to see how it unfolds.

  • This past week, one of my co-workers asked what my New Year’s Resolution was this past year.

    I don’t make New Year’s Resolutions. I do, however, settle on an intention. A word or phrase to guide my heart and actions for the year.

    In year’s past my intentions have ranged from a year of listening, to a year of self care, hospitality, self-care, obedience, rejoicing, a year of deep study, etc.

    But when my co-worker asked? I couldn’t remember.

    I responded “This past year was about walking through open doors….that’s how I landed here.” (as i gestured around the classroom).

    It was true. We had had many discussions, here at the Love Shack, about walking through the doors that open before us.

    It was only much later that I remembered my yearly intention hadn’t been “walking through open doors” at all.

    It was simply “Gone Fishing.”

    Hot Stuff and I were both literally and figuratively “going fishing”.

    We did this by posting a “gone fishing” notice on social media and taking an 8 month social media fast.

    We were consciously separating ourselves from drama and unnecessary white noise. We were literally fishing weekly as well as making an effort to exemplify Christ to others.

    Mathew 4:19  And he saith unto them, Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men

    Make a friend. Be a friend. Bring a friend to Christ.

    This was great for the first several months, then Hot Stuff and I simply forgot to be intentional. We are a bit fickle that way.

    Hot Stuff and I got sidetracked with Zombie movie marathons and hustling to make ends meet. We did, however, decide to walk through the opportunities before us.

    So in fishing terms, we “tried the other side”

    John 21:6 (NIV): “He said, ‘Throw your net on the right side of the boat and you will find some.’ When they did, they were unable to haul the net in because of the large number of fish.”

    When we figuratively “tried the other side” and walked through the doors before us..I began working at a nature based pre-school. So. Much. Fun.

    Hot Stuff took a job at a bakery, that turned out to be an epic disaster. He did, however, minister quietly to many of his coworkers, who recognized him from one of his annual singing gigs.

    When the bakery job stopped, Hot Stuff turned to Uber Delivery Driving. 

    For those of you who know him. My husband is legally blind. Yet, somehow, he was able to pass his eye exam for the drivers test. The idea of him driving as a part-time delivery driver? Never entered our minds.

    Yet here he is. Several mornings a week simply delivering meals in our immediate neighborhood. The definition of a miracle playing out before us.

     We have even started having weekly “Uber delivery dates” on Saturday mornings. I navigate. Hot Stuff picks up deliveries. We sing along with music on the car radio and just have fun.

    By the grace of God, with two part time incomes, our bills get paid.

    Scripture says “when they did, they were unable to haul the net in because of the large numbers of fish.”

    When Hot Stuff and I walked through the unexpected doors, the ones “on the other side”, we found new friends. New ways to connect ourselves. We found the gift of time to renew connections with old friends we had lost touch with.

    One of these reconnections encouraged me to start a faith based blog. I accepted the challenge, lazy writing and all.

    I put my vulnerabilities out here every other week as I walk my own faith out. It is another door I continue to walk through.

    Hot Stuff and I still have a roof over our heads, gas in our tank and food in the fridge. We have a housemate that fills our home with the sound of music and the smell of baked goods. We have a mischievous dog, and a cat who loves to tell on the dog while engaging in her own nonsense.

    We call her “Stitch the Snitch.”

    I have no idea what this next year’s intention will be. I am still praying on it.

    But this I know, God has blessed us in ways we could never imagine in our year of both real and imaginary fishing.

  • This morning, I planned to sit down and work on Detective Drew and the Science Crew. I couldn’t focus. I kept thinking about how we, here at the Love Shack, are a house of creatives.

    Instead of child detective adventures, I’m giving you my ramblings about a house of creative spirits.

    All of us, Hot Stuff, our roommate and myself, need creative outlets.

    Hot Stuff is a singer/songwriter who sings with various music ministries. HIs primary focus is with the Band One Achord. (video clip of a rehearsal below)To relax? He cooks. This man regularly cooks tasty meals from whatever is in the house. That? Is pretty dang creative.

    Our roommate is the music director for his church. He also writes his own music and plays a pretty mean keyboard. This gentleman bakes and creates his own recipes regularly. It is his way of relaxing.

    Me? I just write stories for kids, and occasionally mess around with the violin, piano or guitar. I make soups to unwind.

    Hah…apparently in this house of creatives, we like our food.

    None of us are making a living with our creative side. We all have day jobs. Jobs that allow us the time and headspace to maintain our creative passions.

    Why? Because God gave us these gifts and we ENJOY them.

    We find ways to give each other the time and space to create. Me? I mostly write in the mornings while the guys are at work. Hot Stuff? He spends his time alone thinking, praying, creating in the afternoons when our room mate and I are still at work.

    Our roommate? He’s the night owl. While we are calling it a night, he is just getting started. Baking in the kitchen, or with his headphones on at the keyboard.

    I feel truly blessed to be around these creative souls. Our conversations get to revolve around the creative process, recreations of songs, how we walk out our faith.

    Last night, as we were getting ready for bed, Hot Stuff and I spontaneously began singing “you’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch.”

    Just. Plain. Fun. Now the song is stuck in my head.

    This morning, our roommate and I discussed humility in ministry settings, the importance of building leaders, the importance of vulnerability and drum lines.

    Tonight at dinner, we will briefly talk of our day jobs and then most like talk about upcoming ministry dates, and discuss food. Yes, back to the “we like food” thing.

    How do I know these are the things we will most likely discuss? Because these seem to be the daily topics of choice we gravitate towards.

    We encourage each other by reminding each other of our gifts and WHOSE we are.

    Proverbs 27:17 Just as iron sharpens iron, friends sharpen the minds of each other.

    I think we are at a point in history, where it is REALLY important to use our creative gifts. Creativity comes in many forms and fashions and can be used in both worship and the workplace.

    I work in a nature based pre-school. I regularly see my co-workers use their artistic talents to draw and illustrate for our kids as they teach.

    I also see co-workers incorporate music, dance, story telling and creative problem solving skills daily.

    All jobs need creative problem solvers. Architectural firms, legal practices, hospitals, administrative offices…the list is endless.

    Exodus 35:31–32: “He has filled him with the Spirit of God, with skill, with intelligence, with knowledge, and with all craftsmanship, to devise artistic designs, to work in gold and silver and bronze.”

    No one says you have to be perfect. If you have even an inkling of a creative spirit within you, I encourage you to explore, play, open that cabinet of curiosities within you.

    I would love to see or hear about your creative endeavors!

  • Yup. That is the sign that hangs next to our kitchen door.

    The kitchen door, which serves as the only working entrance to our home. (thanks shifting home)

    Still, I love our quirky home. This drafty house with the constantly shifting foundation . Do I love the orange, cracked walls? Hah, not so much.

    Since “our home” is a rental. The orange stays. Still, a decade ago, Hot Stuff and I prayed that we could live here.

    At the time we lived behind our current home in a small studio. We would imagine the possibilities of hospitality that could happen in this home.

    We vowed that if we ever lived here, we would always welcome our brothers and sisters in Christ. That we would be a safe place for friends and family to recharge as they did the hard work of ministry. Why? Because ministry burns people out.

    Our part of the big picture was simple. Offer a place to recharge. To hang out.

    So we named the house “The Love Shack“. Yes, it was also based on The Love Shack by the B52’s…simply because I thought it was funny.

    This morning, I am sitting in the quiet of our home. It is the first time I’ve had the house to myself in a week. It is beautiful.

    The silence. The fake fireplace. The pets at my feet. And time to reflect.

    Hot Stuff and I often fall short on our efforts at hospitality. We are both introverts and enjoy a lot of down time. We get tired and irritable. We are sometimes insensitive to the needs and desires of the family and friends around us. We might offer unsolicited advice, or may not listen when someone needs to be heard

    Sometimes, ugh, our house smells like pets.

    Our house gets messy, just as our hearts get messy.

    As I am discussing our failures at hospitality to God, I am reminded of 1 Corinthians 13:

     If I speak in the tongues[a] of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. 2 If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. 3 If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast,[b] but do not have love, I gain nothing

    I realize that even if Hot Stuff and I aren’t very graceful at times, we genuinely love and care for those in our lives. Instead of seeing this scripture as a warning (as I have in years past) I see it as affirmation. Our hearts are in line with God’s.

    God IS love.

    As long as we lean on Him..then he can help our hearts stay strong in the foundation of love. Even where we fail.

    Then I am reminded of my Captain Sasha manuscript.( a writing project I have been playing with for the past couple of years)

    Last week, I pulled out my old manuscript of Captain Sasha to review what I had shelved 8 months ago. You know what? I had a more solid story than I remembered. It was kind-of fun. Still a long way to go. Massive editing to do, a few unexpected turns that help it flow..and a LOT more writing to do.

    I’m excited to dive back in.

    I realize that my 1/2 finished Captain Sasha manuscript is no different than our history of hospitality. It needs some editing, some revisions, some turns moving forward.

    Our lives are still a story in progress.

    So grateful to have God’s love as the foundation.

    Welcome to the Love Shack. All are most welcome.

  • This morning, as I was ordering more ink for my printer, I got a call from my rheumatologists office.

     I have been weaning myself off of a medication that I really need. Why?  Because I have joined the ranks of the uninsured.

     I informed my rheumatologist’s that I could pay for my meds out of pocket, but I couldn’t afford the lab work that comes with it. I asked how to proceed.

    I never heard back. I did the only thing I could do, I started weaning myself off of the meds. Thiss morning I realize I have 5 days of partial medication left.

    Then? I get a call. “Dr.D says come in anyway. We will do labs here and bill you later. You can’t afford to get off of x medication because your muscles are gonna go crazy later.” (It’s a myositis thing).

    After I hang up, I sit and cry in relief.

    Once again, humans have shown grace in the midst of the mess.

    I remember years ago, when I was working with refugees from Darfur. I went into a deep dive on the number of genocides that occur at any given time around the world. I was getting into a deep funk about how haunting humans can be.

    Yet…we were still in existence as a species. I wondered how.

    The more I listened and researched, I saw/heard a recurring theme of random acts of kindness and grace that helped sustain hope for survivors of these genocides. This kindness story surfaced in every person’s story.

    It occurred to me, that the only way we survive ourselves is through the goodness and kindness within and among us.

     Galatians 5:22-23 The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Against such things there is no law.

    Right now everyone is going through ridiculous seasons. Deportations of family and friends, strange disappearances for unknown reasons, deaths, job insecurities, partial paychecks, loss of food security, business closures,loss of access to health care, and shrinkflation gone wild.

     Wanna pay a gazillion dollars for 1/3 a bag of chips? Go to my local grocery store.

    We are called to be lights in the darkness. (Mathew 5:16) I see my fellow humans do just that.

     How? By the fruits of the spirit with which we are gifted.

    I want to spend a little time highlighting a few of those acts of kindness I have seen play out just this week….and it’s only Tuesday.

    First, my rheumatologist and his staff, who are trying desperately to keep a slew of patients on their maintenance medications.

    A previous co-worker reports that when he stepped up to pay for his groceries last week, the woman in front of him had already paid for them.

    I have friends that continue to cook and deliver meals for lasagna love. Don’t know about lasagna love? https://lasagnalove.org/    check. It. Out..

    I have a co-worker who brought us all gift bags filled with old school candies. Just because he knows everyone is struggling.

    My son and daughter in law run a small market garden. https://www.harmonymarketgarden.com/ They are currently giving away $20 of produce, to anyone who shows them an EBT card.

    A church friend annually gives Thanksgiving meals to dozens of families. This year she continues.

    My sister gifts grocery store gift cards.

    The acts of compassion and goodness surround us in quiet, understated ways. I bet, if you look, you will see it happening all around you.

    Our churches (and many other ngo’s) continue to provide food for the hungry. Blankets for the cold.

    Friends continue to cook meals for neighbors in need. We check on friends who are sick.  

    We give each other ( friends, family, co-workers, strangers) space to share our fears and concerns. We crack small jokes, we dream, we cry, we sometimes share a little mischief. We pray for one another.

    This spirt of kindness, my friends, is how we survive ourselves.

  • It has been several weeks since I wrote. I mean anything.

    Not Captain Sasha. Not Detective Drew. Not even personal journaling. I could give a zillion reasons, but the truth is…my glitter hadn’t settled.

    Years ago, while working at a teen center, I carried with me a tube of glitter water. Whenever one of my rascals would try to run away, or scream, or burst out crying we would find a place to sit. It was not uncommon to find myself sitting on a curb, or a cement wall with an upset rascal and my glitter tube.

    We would just sit until the glitter settled before addressing the issue at hand.

    It turns out, I haven’t been able to write, or think like a rational person, because I’ve been racing around in the glitter.

    I recently came across some photos of my ex-husband, my sons and myself decades ago. When we were so innocent. When I thought we were real.

    Before our family broke.

    I was broadsided at the depth of hurt that ran through me as I looked through these photos. Deep heart wounds that I thought were mostly healed, suddenly felt raw.

    I instantly called my sister and asked her to take the photos. She willingly obliged. Grateful for my sister.

    Still…I was like God, help me here.

    I was also in a mental spiral about our finances. I started looking at long term hotel stays (no we are not doing that) and panicking about my lack of insurance. Lupus is friggin’ expensive. Just sayin’.

    Hot Stuff and I attended two funerals for unexpected deaths.

    Flat tire, dead battery, broken oven….yada, yada, yada…

    The deportations and detainments of a handful of those around me, the seeming loss of empathy for anyone less fortunate than the financially independent. The insanity of our politics.

    I just wanted off the crazy train. I was losing hope.

    I felt shame that my sons have a broken family. I felt shame for not having enough trust in God…

    Mathew 17:20 “I’m telling you the truth: if you have faith like a grain of mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move.“, runs through my head.

    I don’t want trust. I want reasonable hope.

    I get irritated. Actually I get angry. Not just for my circumstances, but for the real hurts affecting my family and friends as well.

    I am driving home from work one afternoon and decide to finally be honest with myself and God.

    Stuffing my shame and anger in the hopes of growing trust just grew my shame in my inability to trust. It was a downward spiral.

    I gave God my litany of grievances’…and let him know that I intended to just sit with my shame and anger for the next 24-48 hours.

    I am quite confident that God can handle my anger.”And besides” I tell God, “if David could complain and then give praise and worship throughout the Psalms…I can to.”

    Fiesty is the word Hot Stuff uses when I get like this.

    My second day into my personal, and lovely, pity party. My friend Bev calls.

    I crawl under the quilt on my bed and share with her my grievances. You know, the same ones I had just shared with God. “And the worst part?”, I vent, “I can’t even write. Nothing. I have nothing..” (you can see how rational my priorities are at this time)

    And as we are talking I remember the glitter jar.

    Bev has been listening to pod casts by Rick Warren. In particular The Invisible War series.

    The two of us discuss the different types of turmoil that affect all of us. The inner turmoil, the circumstantial/or worldly turmoil, and the turmoil of the outer world.

    As Bev and I talk, I understand that I have not only been trying to be rational in the glitter, but that I’ve had three glitter jars mixed together!

    Then I see something that says “your kids may have a broken home, but they don’t have a broken mom.”

    I sit with that for a minute. Yes, I’ve had my couple weeks of panic, but I have not abandoned myself to keep peace. I have not turned into a shell of my being. I am not emotionally numb.

    I have dared to create a kind and gentle lifestyle for myself. I have dared to love again. I am a mom that dared to break a cycle and start a new life.

    I forgive myself.

    And then it happens. That peace that surpasses all understanding

    Phillipians 4:7 7 And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

    God gently reminds me that all I have to do, is love the people in front of me. Today.

    Enjoy my life. Today.

    Nothing more. Nothing less.

    The glitter has finally settled.