LifePundit

My Old Man's in Prison

One day when Lily was several years younger we went to Mr. Bunky's for supper. Now, Mr. Bunky's is kind of different. You can get rat poison, freshly made sausage, baby formula, deer licks, saddles, boiled peanuts, used-to-be fresh produce, farming and plumbing supplies, etc. -- or you can eat in the restaurant. Now, there are all sorts of people in this restaurant, from F-16 pilots just back from Iraq to millionaires who don't look like it to dirt-poor farmers who don't look like it either.

So, there I was sitting with my young daughter when a man in hunting gear strolls up. His pick-up line was, "Where's your Old Man?" By which I assumed he was inquiring whether or not I had a husband.

"In jail," I said. He did a double-take.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said, not sure whether to proceed or turn around.

"That's all right," I said. "He gets out Sunday night. He's there on a prison ministry."

Paul loves the Kairos prison ministry. He's there right now. As these things usually go, he does it because he gets more out of it than the prisoners do. He says. I went once for the closing ceremony. I didn't like being locked in with murderers and rapists, though I did make an effort to see them as God's children. It was odd holding hands and singing praise music with them. But I loved their shy smiles and their shining love of God. I was still happy to be let out and Paul is not allowed to bring them home, the ones that eventually get out. Obviously I am not cut out for this ministry.

But Paul is. He comes back laughing, crying, deeply touched and happy. He comes back refreshed and filled with hope. Some of the people who are now his friends will never get out of prison, yet they've found joy and purpose. Paul says they're not really very different from us.

Drugs have put many of them behind bars. Not from illegal trafficking so much as from doing terrible things while high or in order to get high.

The prison tries to accommodate the ministry because it changes people. In a good way. I could tell you stories and might one day. The prison also has services for Muslims, Rastafarians and Buddhists. Paul said that there were no services for Jews. I thought that was interesting -- must not be any Jews in S.C.'s worst prison. Or at least not any practicing ones.

There's a Muslim guy participating in this Kairos weekend. The food is good, which brings in a lot of unlikely folks. (Plus everyone in the prison, whether or not they are participating, gets a bag of cookies every day.) The Muslim guy will stand up from time to time and ululate something unintelligible about Allah.  One of the other prisoners says he does it all the time. He laughed and said, "He's saying 'Allah says kill the white boys.'" There's a lot of unlikely humor in the prisons. I guess you create it where you can find it.

One time Paul was giving out cookies in the "mentally challenged" dorm when he ran out of cookies and one of the very large scary-looking inmates got upset. The guard had to intervene. Paul made sure everybody got cookies, though I think it may have taken a year off of his life.

Some of the prisoners tell their stories. One who hadn't spoken for the 11 years he'd been there began to speak, finding his voice after being shut down for so long that everyone assumed he was mute. Miracles do happen. Sometimes all you have to do is show up.

My Old Man's in prison. He gets out tomorrow. Then he needs to mow the grass.

Sharia law in UK is 'unavoidable'

According to the BBC, The Archbishop of Canterbury says the adoption of certain aspects of Sharia law in the UK "seems unavoidable".

Now, what I want to know is, will the Sharia law be the law enforced just for Muslims (when it suits them), or will it include everybody else (whether or not it suits them)? Since it's all so "unavoidable."

Roll over. Play dead. Who cares about your country, what it stands for or people's rights?

Preparation for Lent

Ash Wednesday is tomorrow. Lent begins.

Some people give up things for Lent, such as chocolate or alcohol. One year I gave up "loose bread," which was defined as any bread that wasn't a part of something, such as a sandwich. Loose bread is good. Then there's always the child who gives up peas or beets.

This year I'm giving up worry and sadness. With a God who loves me, shouldn't I be living in joy?

Jesus was fully human. That meant he was familiar with worry and sadness. And there's that shortest verse in the bible, "Jesus wept." So worry and sadness aren't something to be cast aside for good because they are part of the deal with being human. But for 40 days, I'm going to be reaching for joy.

I'm getting ahead of myself here. Ever since I took that Defeating Your Self-Defeating Behaviors class, I've been reflecting on the ways I'd like to live my life differently. I'd like to make living differently a habit, so that living differently is the way I live. It takes 37 days to change a habit, so I'm going to use Lent, which is 40 days, as my framework. To stay on track, I will journal every day. Don't worry. I won't do it here.

I've always shied away from using Lent as an excuse to prove that something isn't a problem or to change something that is. That's not about giving to God. That's about giving to Anne. I've known alcoholics who gave up drinking for Lent as a way to prove to themselves that they weren't alcoholics. If they make it for 40 days, they can go back to their drinking and feel okay, they've proved they don't have a problem.

I shy away from fasting because I'm afraid my motive would not be to get closer to God, but to lose 10 pounds.

So I've had to do a lot of thinking about how to make Lent a spiritual season for me while trying to accomplish goals. And you know what? For once, I believe that changing my life in ways that are surely more pleasing to God and make me a joyful Christian will make Lent a deeply spiritual season for me.

Others may mark the Lenten season by giving up something, paying attention, studying and praying or choosing a service, such as making regular visits to prisons, nursing homes or other places where people live and are forgotten.

Even if you aren't Christian, a season of reflection can be of benefit. I look outside at the resting, winter world. Though most things look dead or dormant, there are things going on beneath the surface. Nature is preparing for spring.

When it arrives, I pray that we'll all be blooming with joy and expectation, too.

The love of Christian strangers

I am deeply touched. Today we joined a new church because we want Lily to feel connected to a Christian community, which sadly she wasn't at our previous church. I won't go into that here except to say that Paul and I were very much connected to that church and left it with much reluctance after over 20 years.

I could tell you many things that are very welcoming about our new church and our growing excitement at the church's work in the community and elsewhere. But that's not what I want to tell you about today.

At lunch we asked Lily what happened in Sunday school. She answered, "The teachers told us that we would sometimes make mistakes or find ourselves in places we didn't want to be or maybe get ourselves in trouble as we got older. They said that if there was ever any reason we couldn't find or call our parents, to call them. They gave us their phone numbers and told us to put them on Speed Dial on our cell phones. They said that any time, day or night, we needed them to help us or come get us or needed anything else, to please call. That they cared about us and are always there."

I don't know these teachers yet. But I am deeply touched. Anybody who offers to come rescue my daughter at any time of the day or night is more than I ever could hope for. Thank you, God, for this Christian community.

I'm beginning to feel like we are in the right place.

Jesus Didn't Have a Mother-in-Law

Paul's birthday is this weekend, so we are going out to dinner with his parents.

Did I mention that I am covered over with old people? We've got my parents, who are 95 and in frail condition. So Paul's parents moved down here so we could take care of them, too. They are in their 70s and at the retirement community where they party all the time. I couldn't keep up with them. It's like a country club and a middle-school clique, all rolled into one.

But I shouldn't complain about being covered over with old people, because I know that the clock is ticking pretty loudly for my own parents. And I grieve.

Still, some people are easier to deal with than others. And you won't find my mother-in-law's name on anybody's list of people who are easy to deal with.

I haven't figured out what is the Christian response to a person like her. I know I'm supposed to love her, but I'm not good enough to conjure love where there is none. Paul had to explain her outlandish behavior to Lily, and I think he summed it up well when he said, "You just have to understand that Granny is a dog who bites."

If you want to see Granny's picture, just google "Narcissistic Personality Disorder."

Granny has so damaged her relationship with Lily that Lily will hardly speak to her. We force Lily to be polite, as she must be to all grown-ups. She will never have to be alone with Granny again, though. Still, Lily is wary and Granny knows why. So what does Granny say? "Lily, you go to church, yet you aren't a very good person because you don't forgive me."

Incidentally, Granny has never admitted that she did anything requiring forgiveness. But now I'm getting cranked up and I am determined not to go there on this blog -- or any other area of my life. I cannot change Granny, and so far I cannot change my reaction to her, but I can change me. Surely.

I dread tonight's dinner, like I dread all interactions with her. I have tried to find a biblical approach to dealing with her. Sometimes I think she falls in the category of allowing me to shake the dust off my sandals and get the heck out of there. I have given up on getting through to her. She only hears what serves her. I know I'm supposed to love her, but I am not able. The best I can do is pray for her -- and even more for me.

You see, I don't like who I am around her. I don't like who I am before we get together, when I am stewing about what she might say/do this time. And I don't like who I am after we get together, when I am stewing about what she actually said/did this time. Truly, the best thing to do is to avoid her. I should be a bigger person, but I'm not.

But I'm going tonight. It is Paul's birthday. He hates to see his parents, too, but he is a Good Son so they are invited. And I try to be a good wife, lover and friend, so I, too, will go.

Happy Birthday, Paul.  At least we know the food will be good.

Changing Churches

Paul drops off Lily at school in the morning on his way to work. This morning was yet another switch in the carpool line. It was such a mess that Paul decided in desperation that he should stop on the road so that Lily could hop out onto the sidewalk and run across the school grounds. Lily was afraid some one would honk at her, which would of course make her wither and die. I can hear her thoughts, "My dorky dad stopped on the street so somebody honked at us and EVERYBODY saw I was with him...."

So, Paul stopped. And the guy behind him honked. Not once. Not twice. But a whole bunch. Paul was about to make an obscene gesture but had the rare good sense not to.

Thank goodness! The honker was our soon-to-be former minister. He drove up beside Paul, rolled down his window, and said, "We miss you already. Lots."

We miss our soon-to-be-former church, too. I never thought we would leave there. I want to be buried in the church memorial garden wall.  Paul and I joined together, before we were married. We were married there. Lily was baptized there. They loved us and held us together through bad times. through pain and doubt and miscarriages and lay-offs. I had a difficult pregnancy, and when Lily was happily delivered alive and healthy and ready for life, one of the ministers I was very close to was at my side, smiling and filled with joy, before I was even off of the delivery table.

When I was admitted to the ER for other reasons, the minister who honked at Paul this morning was there beside me almost before the doctor. He told me words I will never forget, words that keep me going when there doesn't seem a reason to put one foot in front of the other.

We tried to give back, too. Both Paul and I served as Deacons (never the same years). We taught Sunday school, led small groups, tried to help out when we were called and led. What a joy and comfort to be a part of such a church family.

So why are we leaving?

Lily, of course. She is twelve. We have her for six more years at home. Six more years to put her in the right path. She doesn't feel connected to our soon-to-be-former church. There are many reasons and you can probably guess them. Basically, the kids her age aren't as nice as their parents. There's even the bully from school that I could write about at length, but I won't.

So, we have found a better place for her. A church where the kids are welcoming and she's made friends. She's even become best friends with the pastor's daughter (actually, her friend is the daughter of TWO Presbyterian ministers -- her mother and father. A double PK -- preacher's kid). We have spent the summer going there, and it's clearly where we are supposed to be. Lily even cares what she looks like when she gets dressed for church, and will go to youth events without being beaten, or at least not being beaten hard. (Just kidding.)

I long for our home church, for the place I never wanted to leave. But I can see already how God is at work in this new place. Maybe if I'll get over my despair about changing, he'll even find a way to use me there.

Mother Teresa Had Doubts about Faith

I heard on the news today that Mother Teresa's letters, which are being published, show a deep struggle and darkness in her soul. She did not feel God's presence, and she wrestled with doubt.

My first reaction, I'm sorry to say, was, "Whew! What a relief!" I'm sorry for her suffering, but I'm glad to know that even she had doubts and darkness. I've often wondered how there is Mother Teresa -- and then the rest of us. Turns out she is also the rest of us.

I'm encouraged by her life of selfless giving. And shamed by it. I do so little.

And I'm also encouraged that it was not as easy for her as it looked. Then, when I reflect a little deeper, I am even more challenged. Her life and service were powered by a stand-alone faith.

I, too, struggle with darkness and doubt. I think all thinking Christians do. I think that's why God gave us minds and choices. He does not want shallow faith, but faith that overcomes doubt and performs in love. I often feel his presence, usually when I'm left with nothing else. And when I'm not in that abyss, I take comfort knowing that he's here, as close as the air I breathe, whether I can feel it or not. God is not dependent on my feelings, but on his own reality.

Many, if not most, if not all, great Christians have wrestled with doubt. Even John the Baptist. When he was waiting in jail, he sent a question to Jesus: Are you The One, or are we waiting for another? Because, you see, Jesus wasn't doing what John and the rest thought he would do. If I were John sitting in jail, I'd probably have demanded that Jesus Get Me Out of There.

(Matthew 11: 4-6, The Message): Jesus told them, "Go back and tell John what's going on:

   The blind see,
   The lame walk,
   Lepers are cleansed,
   The deaf hear,
   The dead are raised,
   The wretched of the earth learn that God is on their side.
"Is this what you were expecting? Then count yourselves most blessed!"

Just what are we expecting? I know in my own life the question I should be asking is, "Just what is God expecting of me?"

Mother Teresa knew what God expected of her, and she did it. She didn't rely on "feelings." She went on faith.

You can find much (and much better thought out and written) information on The Dark Night of the Soul. All Christians have been there. Some get out of their own. My friends and family, helped by God, hauled me out of that deep, deep hole.

As Christians, we can learn from Mother Teresa how faith can overcome doubt. I find comfort, though a cold comfort because of her suffering, in that.

I worry that the aggressive atheists among us will use Mother Teresa's honest letters to sully the beauty of her life and service. Her whole life was a testimony to the reality and goodness of God. Now it will be used, or attempt to be used, as "proof" that he doesn't exist.

Lord, I believe. Forgive my unbelief.

Flip Flops and Faith Save Woman's Life

Yet another reason to love flip flops -- they can save your life!
http://www.wltx.com/news/story.aspx?storyid=52587