What do you see?

What would it be like to look at all sides of a person at one time? To see them—really see them—for who they are in every intricate way? Maybe a little frightening? Maybe disturbing? Perhaps, we’d find ourselves in them.

 When our tour guide at our local art center pointed out that this Picasso displayed all sides of the face at once, I finally understood the painter who I had only seen from one perspective before. 

I wonder if we all have a little bit of each other made up in our whole. The same fears, rejections, perspectives, loves. Have you ever walked through a group of people, and at first glance you see complete opposite traits as you? Maybe the way they dress, or act, or speak? If we could see all sides of a person at once, maybe those differences would fade to the background of our likenesses? After all, each one of us is created in the image of God.

And as a fiction author it resonates with me greatly. I love plunging deep in my characters, and exploring every side of their perspectives, wants, needs. My goal is to give the reader a portrait where they can find themselves, to give them an avenue of empathy, and a trace of truth in the made-up world.

 Thank you, Mr. Picasso, for this visual. While some of the little girls in our group said it was weird, (and I thought the same at first), I now understand that, for myself, I need to try and remember that all of us have different sides—but in each of our God-given makeups, there is some of the same.

Is Kindness a buzz word?

Today, this mama held her baby girl as she spoke through her tears, sharing with me the meanness someone threw at her. If I gave into my initial reaction, I'd tell her to fight back, to say the next mean thing. And then I'd start playing in my head what I would complain about to the appropriate adults-in-charge.

Let's just thank God that I demanded the mama bear back in the cave before taking hold of THAT mentality.

What I told my girl, though, was to stand up for herself in a different way. What I told her was to stand firm in kindness. Show the mean kid something different. Be kind, even to them. Kindness is the only way.

Doubt always creeps in at these moments while mama bear is forced away, and I wondered what was the downfall of teaching my daughter to be completely counter human-instinctual? Maybe not in this situation, but what about bigger situations? Am I teaching her to be passive to a fault? Would her being kind come at the risk of ignoring strength? Do I run the chance of making her soft, sensitive, easily broken by meanness? Am I teaching her to forgo being tough and resilient?

Is kindness really the holy space I've come to learn as a Christ follower, or is it a cowering, a cop out?

Even after tears and heartbreak, the daughter smiled and readied for school knowing she is loved, she is kind, and who she IS, counts more than what people tell her.

I see the daughter whose favorite word is "LOVE", who craves friendship and people and love. Who is ever happy to be beside her old friends, and who is always willing to make a new friend. I see her kindness as her greatest strength, and I know her spirit is strong in love.

No, kindness is not a buzzword. Kindness IS tough. Kindness is bold. It's passing up the fleshy garbage of broken people, and pouring out love regardless. It's a fine shield for a strong spirit.

Kindness is Love.

And I guess, after all my struggles and fails as a mom, I will once again, cast off the mama-bear instinct and step into a surprising posture of victory. Because, whatever the world says, whatever the hatred shows, I know one thing I'll get right as a mother--my kids will know that kindness wins. Can't wait to see the paths they'll pave ahead.

Hungry Bellies

I was starving today. I rushed to Target before school pick up, and sat with some cheese and crackers, a bit of fruit, in my lap, ready to devour. This snack is nothing, though. Not a drop in my bucket, really. Just another quick bite of many other quick bites, big bites, hearty meals. 

This is nothing compared to the bags we packed for my son’s fellow schoolmates. No, I just wanted a little something, but those bags were filled with a lot more. Maybe a little everything they would eat over the weekend.

The counselor used words like: insecure, hiding food, storing food from the lunch room, asking for snacks multiple times throughout a school day. Embarrassed. Identified. Hungry. 

These words describe kids that sit next to my well-fed son. These kids walk the halls of a school filled with Nikes, Jansport, iPads, Organic lunches, Non-GMO snacks, braces, retainers, clean clothes...and all they want is something in their belly.

I am the first one to say that I am thankful for all I can give my kids, and I know that I take it for granted too much. But, I nearly lost it today at the matter-of-fact explanation of our target recipients of the sacks of Mac n cheese and granola bars. I could hardly keep it together.

These are babies. 

And they are hungry. 

And it IS up to those of us given much to care for them—no matter what. No matter background or bias.

Thank GOD for schools, counselors, teachers, administrations who must step in for the parents who just can’t give good things to their children—whatever their reason—because there is no reason NO EXCUSE that one child in this country should wonder how they will eat on a weekend.

Not one.

Faith in His People

My heart has sunk low this week. It is trembling-in-waiting. It is groaning in prayer. Yet, it's also refraining from pouring out an awful mess that would destroy more than heal. News about mistreated children always does this to me. Heck, fiction about children being mistreated does this to me. But, I've never been so physically sickened by it as I have these past days, when there are thousands of children affected, and there has been a blatant refusal to do anything about it.

After thrashing about, typing posts, then erasing them, crying out to Congressmen and my husband and my pastor...I wear my brain out. I am helpless. I sour with the bitterness that seems to spew from my darkest thoughts. Then I walk away, then I return again to the same neurotic pattern of thrashing about, typing posts, writing my Congressmen and blurting out to my husband...eh. Finally, after all that back and forth, the whiplash of my mental well being, after every thud of my heavy heart, I see God waving His hand over "there", trying to get my attention. He meets me in my hysteria. Only He can distinguish the love from fear...wisdom from foolishness. And only He can unwind the fleshy mess from His strands of Grace within me. Once I have taken a breath and calmed myself, I catch a glimmer of a surprise that I did not expect in my anger. It has jolted a startling heartbeat of peace within me. These past hours, I've witnessed God's people, a DIVERSE multitude of His believers, uniting in heart cries of one accord. No matter their doctrine, or differences, their cry is the same as mine. And in these dark hours, I find quiet for my soul. Even for just a moment.
Because of the love I've witnessed, the pleasant aroma rising from friends, family, sisters, and even places I had sworn off--people who'd once tripped me up--I've discovered that I am part of this magnificent whole. I am united to the heartstrings of others in a significant way.

There is power in that.

There is a strength larger than borders or councils or cages. For, I know--I have to believe--this type of Power will prevail. When the real life nightmares rattle my spirit and bring bouts of weeping--perhaps, I can still cling to hope. I can hope in change. I can hope in the fact that as much as I cry in anguish, the Lord's cry is even louder--and by the witness of His People, I believe it is so.

People of God, pray now. We must pray for changed hearts in our leaders...I truly believe the issue of refusing to release children isn't one of law or policy (I know there are some who see policy/politics differently...and many of them love God with all their hearts. If that's you, I am not against you...I am not talking politics right now. I am addressing the willful inaction to release children. You can think one thing about policy, and still stand by the humane act of keeping families together). Whatever side of the aisle you perch on, can we ALL still agree that these babies need their mamas? Can we please consider in this moment--ONLY the child, ONLY the reunion? I beg you, let's get those babies back to their mamas.

 Pray. Act. Call. And pray some more.

 United we stand...as a People of the God Who LOVES.