Act Cool

SHE did it!!!

That was what he told the police officer as he pointed his accusatory finger in my face. I could have punched him. The officer basically saved his life. 

I was 27 years old and Nathan was 30. We had been driving from Visalia to our parents house in Dinuba for our usual Sunday visit. I had just passed another slow driver but had forgotten the crucial step of slowing down after crossing back over the yellow line. I saw the police car pass me and do an immediate U-turn. When his lights started flashing, I knew I was guilty. 

My stomach sank. In my 9 years of driving, I'd never been pulled over before for anything. I was never even been a passenger in a car that was pulled over. So I could only reference TV and movies for how this process might go. I certainly didn’t know how he was going to react to the situation. I had no reference for how to predict what would happen next.

As I pulled my 1999 Saturn SC over to the side of the two lane country road, I said, “Nathan, I’m getting pulled over for speeding.” He sat up a little straighter but didn’t say anything.

I put the car in park and waited for the officer to appear at my window. But he didn’t.

I heard a knock but there was still no one outside my window. Oh crap!, I screamed in my head. 

“Nathan, roll down your window.” I said (sort of) calmly.

“No.” he replied.

I didn’t have power windows and my arm wasn’t long enough to reach over him to do it myself so I yelled, “Roll down your window, NOW!!

“NO!!!!” he yelled back.

“DO IT!!!!!!!!” I screamed in desperation as I heard another knock.

He extremely reluctantly rolls down his window, points across his body at me, and declares, “SHE did it!”

I could not believe my ears. I had whiplash from the lightening fast shift he made from loyal companion to narc! What a lousy, good for nothing, disloyal brother who was…absolutely right. I had done it. But I thought that was pretty obvious seeing as I was sitting in the driver’s seat and all!

I handed the officer my license, registration, and insurance card. Before the officer had walked two steps, Nathan had his window rolled right back up. Suddenly, he knew how to move fast! I started murmuring inside as we sat in silence and waited, for what felt like forever, for the officer to come back.

Knock, knock!

“Roll it down,” I said sternly

“No”, he repeated just as sternly

Seriously?? We’re gonna do this again?!?

“YES!” I hissed (okay I may have yelled it)

He rolled it down reluctantly and exclaimed once again, “SHE did it!”

Then, he showed the officer the cover of his newest CD and said the words that will forever ring in my ears. “I only listen to gospel music!”

So now I’m angry AND embarrassed. Great, just great. I’ll get him later, when there’s no law enforcement present.

The officer didn’t seem to understand Nathan’s words (thank God for difficult speech!) Or maybe he just had no idea how to respond to being shown a gospel quartet CD as proof that a passenger of a car wasn't guilty of speeding. I feel comfortable betting that particular scenario had never happened to him. In any case, he changed the subject entirely by asking, “Hey, do you know Mr. Warkentin that teaches at the high school?”

For the 3rd time in the span of a few minutes, I couldn’t believe my ears. He’s really asking about our dad while I’m sitting here on the side of the road with my disloyal brother?!? Of course he is.

“Yes”, I said, while shaking my head in shame, “we’re his kids.”

“Oh! I was his student,” the officer said

Perfect.

“Have a good day,” he said

“You too”, I mumbled back but there’s no way the officer could have heard me. You know why? It’s not because I spoke too softly. It’s because the window was already rolled up. He just can’t play along and act cool. Nope. Not Nathan.

As I pulled back onto the road he says, “I won't tell anyone.”

“OH REALLY?? NOW you’re gonna be on my side? Tell anybody you want. It’s a free country.” I huffed.

He started to repeat his promise when I abruptly cut him off with my pointer finger and said sharply, “shut up.”

He gingerly took his Signature Sound CD out of the player and put it safely in his, now infamous, case.

I turned on my music a little louder than usual. Not a word was spoken the rest of the way to Dinuba.

About 15 minutes later, he pushed past my dad and went straight to his room. My dad looks at me quizzically and asked what Nathan’s problem was. I turned to both my parents and confessed, “He’s trying not to tell you that I just got pulled over for speeding.”

Then he appears out of nowhere and all loyalty drains out of him as he points at me once again and exclaims (say it with me now) SHE did it!!

My mom tried to keep a straight face but had to put her head down to try to hide her smirk.

“That’s exactly what he told the officer!" I said. (It was my turn to tell on him.) 

My mom started to giggle.

“He said that to the officer?!?” my dad asked.

“Yep! Guess what he said after that?” I exclaimed. “You want to tell them?”, I said to Judas Nathan.

He suddenly had nothing to say.

“I want to hear what he said!” my mom said eagerly.

“He showed the police officer his CD and said, ‘I only listen to gospel music!’” I testified.

My mom almost fell out her chair from laughing so hard.

“Oh Dad, by the way, your student says hello.”

“Oh really? Who?” he asked

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s on the ticket he just gave me,” I said in exhaustion.

From that day forward, whenever my parents or I feel we are being accused of something by the other one, we invoke Nathan’s not guilty plea by putting our hands in the air and insisting “I only listen to gospel music!” 

Here it is...the I'm-not-guilty gospel music.

Following God, even to church

I want to follow God anywhere, even if that means I have to go to church. 




He has called me and created me to love people with developmental disabilities and their families, given me a group of people to call my own. He has given me a history filled with pivotal experiences that shape my future in profound ways. He has given me a unique attitude and sense of justice that cause me to fight when others flee and correct when others ignore. He has shown me that all people can come to Him. All people can know Him and be known. He came to seek and save the lost, not the perfect, the lost. 




And He has lead me from an unknown, tiny, country church that meets once a month in a small conference room to a popular urban mega church that's meets across the Central Valley on multiple campuses for multiple services. 




I loved it at my country church. I was comfortable there, safe and at rest. After more than 10 years He began to stir in me a desire to move to a new church. I didn't want to go. At all. But He gently nudged me inch by inch until I found myself open to the change. I couldn't believe it. I looked around and thought somehow I had been forced and should be revolting, throwing a tantrum. But all I was doing was picking my jaw up from the floor. He hadn't forced me. He doesn't do that. He guided and I followed. I didn't see it coming but He wasn't surprised even a little bit. 




I get to support two 4th grade boys who have Down syndrome, one on Wednesday night and the other on Sunday morning. They challenge me, help me, love me, and let me teach them about Jesus. They are my reward for going to church each week.







"Because He lives I can face tomorrow", even if that includes being part of a mega church.

Naming the elephants in the room

A couple weeks ago I had the following text conversation with a friend. It started with a sincere compliment and quickly turned into hilarity... 

I love that I can always count on you to say it. Whatever it is, at any given time. 

The elephants in your rooms have names.

Names like Blanche and Hector?

Haha. You need to write a blog about naming your elephants.

Get them out from under the rug and introduce them to everyone.

Yes! Blanche and Hector!!

Hector has a mustache and hat. It's quite amazing.

Totally

Blanche carries one of those little purses and has on lavender heels

Oh my word! Yes!

And she trumpets out both ends.

HahahahahaHA!

Good thing hector lost his sense of smell in the war

And he can't see that she's gained 100 lbs and her flowered dress has faded

He just sees her beauty

Aw. That and he lost an eye in that other war

That was a tough day. He doesn't like to talk about it

But Blanche likes to bring it up all the time

Lol. Oh man. Just put this conversation in your blog as a starter.

Ordinarily, I'm not an advocate for naming things. I think names are for people and pets, not things. My car doesn't have a name, neither does my tv, or my boat. (Although that's mostly because I don't own a boat.) The idea of naming the elephants in the room has been rolling around in my mind and it's really growing on me. Naming them won't give them undue power. I suspect it will do quite the opposite and bring healing and hope. It will also bring laughter and, dare I say, joy. So it might be time to follow my friend's lead and start making introductions...

Meet Burt the Troll, Mr. and Mrs. McGillicuddy, Boris, and Travis the Tree, keeper of the Enchanter Forest. Bios to come.

I love Nathan. 

I love that he talks to me and I almost always understand him. 

I love that he tells me things he won't tell anyone else. 

I love that he asks me questions about how I'm doing. 

He listens and he remembers. 

When he understands something, he shows it. 

When he loves someone, he tells him or her. 

When he cares about you, you know it. 

When he wants to greet you, it doesn't matter what is between you, he will forge through it and he will greet you. 

If you laugh at his joke, like his music, or cheer for a team, he will tell it again, play it again, and cheer with you every time he sees you. If the interaction was successful once then he believes it will be the next 100 times. 

Rooms brighten, smiles appear, voices get louder, and high fives abound when he walks in. He is not inhibited or detoured by the chance of there being awkwardness. He stomps past the awkward and goes straight to the comfortable. 

He is also embarrassing, confusing, infuriating, and depressing but who isn't? :)

He's a beautiful mess who's life I celebrate and thank God for (almost) every day. 

Happy Birthday Brother. 

Over Forty Three Years of True Love

He saw her from across the crowded cattle truck that was about to take their youth groups up the mountain to Hartland Christian Camp. Nudging his friend, he pointed at her and said, "I'm gonna marry her some day." They were in 6th grade. He was convinced she was the one and she didn't know he existed.

Their senior year of high school he grew his hair out. Not shoulder length or anything (don't get crazy). He just went from a crew cut to a short cut. It was a matter of maybe an inch but it made all the difference because, as legend has it, she finally noticed him.

Five years later, on December 19, 1970, they got married.

And oh the fires their marriage has been through in those 43 years. I don't need to go into detail but suffice it to say, they had 3 "wonderful" children whom God used to refine them in ways I'm sure they never could've imagined.

They chose each day who they would serve and who they would love. My parents set and maintained their priorities: God, each other, and then us kids. We were never first or second on the list and that is a huge part of why they are still in love today.

Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad! You're the best parents I've ever had! :)

Heaven and Earth: The difference is a head tilt

With the slightest adjustment of my gaze, from looking below the horizon to looking above it, everything changes. 

All it takes is a head tilt and the things of earth really do grow strangely dim and out of focus.

And then I blink.
And find myself looking down again.

But, I'm reassured right before the blink that heaven is real and that in the twinkling of an eye we'll all be home.

Skydiving = ________? You fill in the blank.

I was looking through my nightstand and a paper fell out. I unfolded it to find these words. They apply to so many subjects…


I want to go skydiving. I really, really do. How many years have I been saying that?! 10? 12? I want to face my fears, be adventurous, and do it already!

Or do I?

I do the research, pay the deposit, talk to experts, and set a timeframe. I even tell people about it. Everyone's excited and supportive, EAGER for me to have this experience.

I'm nervous. Well, terrified actually. Turns out when given the opportunity, I'd rather stay in the plane where it feels safe and familiar. I like it up here, flying solo, it's what I've done for years and I'm pretty good at it. At least I'm good at acting like I'm good at it. I'm afraid of failure, embarrassment, and rejection. So I stay on the plane.

I think I need a push, a swift kick, someone to shove me out, or maybe a hand to hold on the way down. But I abhor feeling forced, pressured, or guilted into doing anything. My stubborness wells up in me like a flame that refuses to be extinguished. I resist even the most appealing, deepest desire of my heart. Why? Out of fear. Self defense. Protection.

I think I'm guarding my heart but what I'm really doing is sitting on a plane talking about how much I want to go skydiving.