Seeing Her Face

I opened the email and tears came to my eyes. I certainly wasn't expecting to cry but my reaction reminded me of the thing I love most about my job. I get to serve people of all ages who have developmental disabilities and ensure that they are provided the services and supports they need at any given time in their lives. I get to be the one who meets with them, and their circle of support, to not just ask how they are doing but to see, smell, feel, and even get a taste for how they are. I walk into their homes, schools, day programs, work sites, and sometimes they come to my work site. I get to walk with them as they give me a tour of the places they spend their time and use their talents. They often show me their treasures and I get to learn from them what's important in their lives. I get to see them interact with the people who support them and see the bonds that are established between them. I get to make silly jokes and hear them laugh or see them roll their eyes at me. I get to be teased by them. 

Right now, during this Covid 19 shelter in place time, I only get to call them. I don't like being limited to just one sense and didn't realize how deeply it was affecting me until I got that email. Along with a quarterly report, I asked a care provider for a picture of the person we serve. I didn't know how much I needed to see her face. It was just supposed to be a substitute (albeit a lesser one) for not being able to see her in person and a solution to not being able to communicate with her on the phone because she is nonverbal. It served those professional purposes but was so much more important than those things. It was just what I didn't know, I needed. In that moment as I looked at her healthy, beautiful face, the world got blurry but I could clearly see why I work at CVRC.

Poinsettias

I thought I’d left grief at home and only packed distraction. 

For most of my trip, I was distracted. The 10 hour flight took me to a part of the world I hadn’t seen before. The crisp cold air required my favorite clothes and accessories including a big warm coat, a scarf, a hat, and gloves. Exploring the city required lots of walking, navigating The Tube, taking cabs, and riding a double decker bus. Figuring out what to eat and how much required constantly calculating the risk vs reward because new variables were added throughout each day. How will eating a bite of caramel cheesecake affect my ability to focus and participate in the rest of the days activities? How will having afternoon tea with all its delicious treats allow me to walk several miles and then enjoy a musical?  It was all a distracting game. 

Knowing what to expect and what was happening next required communication with the friends I was traveling with. Communication requires seeking to understand and be understood throughout each and every day. It requires working together to make decisions and compromises that bring joy to the individual and the group. Communicating can be frustrating but also so much fun! We spent at least half of the trip laughing with and at each other. It was a marvelous and healthy distraction.  

Capturing each moment required deciding between taking a picture with my phone or with my eyes. Some things are best captured in a well framed photo and others are better remembered by just gazing at it in its surroundings as it soaks into my heart. 

I thought I’d only packed distraction and then we walked by a shop and I saw it. We were walking fairly quickly so at first it was a blur but then it registered. A simple window display of poinsettias brought a flood of memories and emotion. My mom got one for her every year at the beginning of December. I always wanted to go along to deliver it because her reaction was an incredible mixture of joy, anticipation, and gratitude. Every year she seemed genuinely surprised. She didn’t have an expectation that my mom would bring it but was exceptionally delighted when she did.

To be content with what we have and grateful for anything we’re given. To know that God has good things for us on earth but that He also made it clear there would be suffering. To have the faith that is defined in the Bible as “the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen" (Hebrews 11: 1) She’s in heaven seeing all the promises fulfilled. Even as I walk past a window display in another country, I’m still learning lessons from her and I hope I always will. Grief may have followed me to London but God went before me and graciously provided the distractions along with the reminders. 

70 things for her 70th birthday

My mom turned 70 today. It sounds like an April Fools joke to me. It's hard to believe she's reached that number but I'm so grateful she has! To commemorate the day, I decided to compile a list of 70 things that I love about her. Spoiler: I only got to 47. Ha! (47 happens to be her favorite number so there's that.) My shortcoming leaves space for you to join me in completing the list. I'll tell you how at the end. Without further explanation, here's what I have so far.

1. Carried me 5 extra weeks when she was pregnant 
2. Sewed my "dress up" dresses
3. Bought me those red high heel shoes
4. Encouraged me to love all of my grandparents 
5. Introduced me to the Schwagers 
6. Signed me up for piano lessons
7. Let me quit piano (6 years later) 
8. Took me to dad’s volleyball games 
9. Taught me to cheer for everyone 
10. Made all of my lunches for 9 years of school 
11. Gave me weekly lunch allowance so I could practice budgeting 
12. Talked about money in everyday situations to teach me how to use it and not be controlled by it
13. Endured my piano recitals 
14. Sat through all of my choir concerts 
15. Showed up to every game
16. Cheered for me everyday 
17. Taught me to cook over the phone when I was desperate at work
18. Let me fly away to college
19. Came to see me at college
20. Took us to the flamingo exhibit 
21. Sang at least one silly song a day
22. Did my laundry for 22 years 
23. Cleaned up after me for 22 years 
24. Made sure I had three meals a day for 22 years 
25. Co-signed for my first car loan
26. Encouraged me to buy a house
27. Fed my dog sausage when I was gone
28. Came to support me the day Lucy died
29. Painted the entire interior of my house 
30. Made us and Gma matching Easter outfits, at my request 
31. Played in the handbell choir with me
32. Made me curtains for every place I’ve lived
33. Let me tell you that something you made me was ugly or beautiful 
34. Sewed me the greatest twirling dresses a girl could ever dream of 
35. Studied The Bible 
36. Went to Turkey and Greece with me
37. Point me to Jesus always, in triumph and trial
38. Prayed for me every Friday with Bonnie
39. Showed me what a good friend looks, acts, sounds, and loves like
40. Hugged me tight and prayed for me every time I left for a trip
41. Listened intently to all my stories when I returned 
42. Said, “thank you Jesus!” all the time 
43. Made up her own words: glish 
44. Can swing everything around to something positive 
45. Has been to all of my softball games, even the ones at 8:30pm, armed with quilts to keep warm
46. Loves to look at the ocean
47. Takes extremely good care of Gma

So this is where you can come in to complete the list with 23 more things that you love about my mom. Write them right there in the comments and I'll add them in. 

This hike is what she wanted to do for her 70th birthday

We made it all the way to Avila Beach

Born in Holland

Being the younger sister of a brother with a developmental disability is like being born in Holland and having all of your first experiences with the backdrop of windmills, Rembrandts, and tulips. These things were not special, they were commonplace. A Rembrandt was just a painting. Sure they looked different from other paintings and yes, I could spot one from a mile away. But that didn't make them special, it made them familiar. Sitting among the tulips wasn't memorable, it was comfortable. Playing around the windmills wasn't a choice, it was a reality. A beautiful reality to be sure but everyone knows that flowers wilt, windmills break, and paintings get scribbled on with markers and knocked off the wall.

It turns out that the thing everyone knew, that I didn't know, was that I'm actually supposed to have grown up in Italy. My parents grew up in Italy and my first born brother was born there. It wasn't until my second born brother was born that my family had to move to Holland. They didn't have a choice. They all lived in Holland for almost 4 years before I was born. I like to pretend that part of me always knew but I really didn't. I don't know exactly when I figured it out. There is no specific moment when I discovered the truth. There was nothing hidden to dig up. The truth was always in front of me and I just gradually comprehended and absorbed it. I was the only member of the family who didn't have to adjust to a new country and it's culture but I found myself struggling to relate to Italians. 

So which culture am I from? I'm not Dutch but I'm not Italian either. I'm in some sort of third category. Dutchian? Italiutch? I know I relate well to Dutch people but I am supposed to relate best to Italians. Dutch people accept me but I'm not one of them. Italians praise me for my "special skills" in relating to Dutch people but, partially because of those skills, I'm not one of them either.

All I want is for both cultures to understand each other and include each other in shared communities. I will translate, interpret, build a human bridge to help people get over their differences, and ignore my own need for acceptance to get the job done. The fact is that I'm neither Dutch or Italian. I'm a sibling and that I shall always be.

The many ways he ruined my life by having a disability

We are full grown adults now, totally grown up, yet he still ruins my life in unexpected ways by having a disability. In fact, recently, he and our parents were going to come to town to have lunch with me and do some shopping. I took my time that morning waking up and getting out of bed but was about to get ready to face the world, when I got a text from my mom. She said plans changed. He's not in a good mood so lunch and shopping are off.

Is it weird that I wasn't surprised or even upset? I'd seen him on Saturday and this was Monday. Even though it had been two days and I was 45 minutes away, I had a feeling he was in a bad mood. I don't know if I was born with strong intuition or if he made me that way but in any case, the situation caused me to think of the many ways he has ruined my life, or maybe better put, changed me, by having a disability.

1. Took up so much of the emotional space that I was forced to consider others feelings before my own.

2. Needed someone nearby at all times which meant I always had someone to play with and boss around

3. Had to be my mom's priority on my first day of kindergarten so I ended up walking to school with strangers who became my lifelong friends

4. Didn't understand religion and couldn't follow religious rules so I saw the difference between law and grace

5. Always wanted to talk to people but his speech was difficult to understand so I learned how to be an interpreter

6. Loved repetition of songs, stories, and questions so I learned creative listening and answering

7. Was angry without knowing how to express why so I became an investigator of cause and effect

8. Gave vague and deflective answers so I discovered body language and tone

9. Never stayed on a subject for more than two sentences so my mind became nimble

10. His mood would change the course of the entire experience for better or for worse so I had to learn that the world does not revolve around me

11. Didn't understand complicated, multi-step concepts or directions so I learned to quickly translate them into small concise steps

12. Has always been bigger and stronger than me so I had to learn the art of persuasion

13. Desperately wants an item but can NOT handle having an empty wallet so I learned to think through purchases before I made them

14. Has a hair-trigger temper that launches us all into crisis mode so I learned to be calm, composed, and diplomatic under pressure 

15. Does embarrassing things all the time but managed to teach me that I embarrass him too 

16. Incessantly asks for what he wants until he gets an answer he can understand and accept and showed me how to be persistent when searching for clarity

17. His needs could trump mine at any moment so I learned that God is the only One I can count on 100% of the time and God is faithful to show me that He is more than enough.

I'm convinced this list is not complete because he has more ways to frustrate me and to teach me. God has always gotten my attention through Nathan and I'm sure that will continue so stay tuned. :)

Never forget

I imagine I will always be able to tell you where I was on 9/11/01 and I will also be able to tell you where I was on 9/12/03. Here an my account of that day.

It was a Sunday, at about 2pm, I was at my parents house and I got the call I’d been praying the last three weeks for. After hanging up, I called my cousin Amy. I am forever grateful that Amy came with me and that by 2:30 we were on our way to Long Beach. I think God must have given us some sort of tail wind because at 6pm we were at the church where she’d called me from.

When she walked out of the building I gasped inside. She was so thin and her eyes were hallow. She didn’t think the abuse showed on the outside but it did. I could see it from her pale face to her dejected shoulders to the hesitation in her steps. She touched her purse and tried to smile and greet us with her chin up but even eye contact seemed painful. She was walking out of a war zone and it was okay to show it.

I vaguely remember thanking the people at the church who had given her shelter that day and then we got in the car to start our journey home. It felt like a movie scene where the prisoner gets broken out of prison and the getaway car is a Saturn SC with four cylinders that goes from zero to sixty in two days. As we approached the freeway exit to his house, she felt the gravitational pull to go back “just to spy on him”. I wanted to give her anything she asked for but she was well practiced in forgetting the bad and the ugly. That’s how she survived. But now began the time to slowly learn how remember again. So after a two second hesitation, I said no to her half hearted request and sped up to keep widening the gap between hope and fear. The healing had just begun.

Flawless

In keeping with my habit, I've been reflecting on my time at this year's Joni and Friends Family Retreat. So many things happened over the course of the week that made me feel all the paradoxes: able/disabled, confident/uncertain, delighted/annoyed, equipped/lacking, joy/fear. I had all of the answers and none of the answers. 

The lesson God kept faithfully teaching me through hundreds of different little experiences is that He is all the first things when I am all the second things. He is able, confident, delighted, equipped, joy, and The Answer. I don't need to become those things or produce those traits in myself. And it's a good thing because I can't make myself be those things. I can pretend to be able to but the reality is that I can't. God is those things and in His great mercy and grace offers to be those things for me and for all of us. 

One of the ways God taught me this lesson was through the following scene between a man in a wheelchair named Michael and a man next to him named Alan. 

Michael’s singing is in the form of happy humming sounds and Alan’s singing is in the form of off-key notes and clear words. One man has spent his life being cared for and the other has spent his life caring for his loved ones. Both have learned to communicate without words. Both have experienced lifetimes of frustration and pain and both have seen the hand of God in all of it.

They met on a Monday afternoon and bonded immediately. By Wednesday they seemed to understand each other on a deep level. Alan would make a move, Michael would make a noise, Alan would adjust, and Michael would silently approve. Michael was teaching Alan his language and Alan was soaking it in.

I had the privilege of watching this exchange happen many times throughout the week of camp. My favorite time was when they pulled up to the lake in front of the patio I was working at. Alan situated Michael’s chair near some steps and sat down on the step. Michael made a sound and Alan got up. He moved Michael’s wheelchair forward several feet closer to the edge of the lake and Michael approved. Alan no longer had anywhere to sit but that didn’t bother him.

The next thing I heard was a familiar Mercy Me song coming from Alan’s phone. The two men started singing and the words of that song have near been more profoundly beautiful to my ears.

“No matter the bumps
No matter the bruises
No matter the scars
Still the truth is
The cross has made
The cross has made you flawless

No matter the hurt
Or how deep the wound is
No matter the pain
Still the truth is
The cross has made
The cross has made you flawless”

I was wrecked. Tears flowed as my heart swelled with the Truth of the gospel on display before my eyes. 

We are all flawed but the cross has made us flawless.

Moments later, Alan and Michael passed by me and Alan remarked, "Michael is the first person to ever sit through me singing an entire song! Hahaha!" 

God was even faithful to provide me with comic relief when I was overwhelmed by the wonder of it all!

Best Picture

I don't know how he does it but he makes every experience memorable. For better or worse, they are all memorable.

The story of my first speeding ticket is one I've told countless times and quotes from that story have wiggled their way into my vernacular. Read it here and I'm sure you'll start saying "I only listen to gospel!"

The story of my second speeding ticket is boring, not even worth talking about, except to shake your head at me for getting two tickets. You know why it was boring? He wasn't there.

Recently, my parents and I went with him to Tahoe Joe's for his birthday. He did all kinds of his usual embarrassing moves like avoiding eye contact and responding to questions like Scooby-doo but the server thought he was great! When she came to deliver his birthday cheesecake, he wasn't in his seat. She looked so disappointed and then relieved to hear that he was just in the restroom and would be right back. She stood there and waited for him, holding the cheesecake with the candle in it, armed with a lighter to start the celebration as soon as he returned. He had made a connection with her and as she said good-bye to us, she looked at him and said, "You come back and see me again soon, okay?" I'm sure she wouldn't mind if the rest of us showed up but she was really only talking to him.

I've been to that restaurant countless times and nothing that memorable has happened. You know why? He wasn't there.

Last night my whole family went to see Brant Hansen's Misfits Tour with Producer Sherri and special guest Jason Gray. It was "an incredible night of awesomeness" just like Brant had been repeatedly promising on the radio for weeks. They were all so funny that by the end my face and my throat hurt from laughing so much! It was all memorable but the moment I will remember the longest was at the end of the night during the meet and greet.

I went through the line the first time with my brother Edward and his family. I was nervous because I always get that way when I am about to meet people that I admire. Everything went well. I got a big hug from Sherri and a solid handshake from Brant. They both signed my copy of Blessed are the Misfits and it was wonderful to meet them. Really wonderful. But it wasn't an experience to write about and expect other people to think was interesting. You know why? He wasn't there.

About 5 seconds after that, he walked up to me and said, "I want to meet him!" I looked behind me and saw that my turn was over and the next people were well into their picture taking, hugging, and handshaking so we couldn't just jump back into the space and expect positive attention. Then I looked at the line that stretched across the room, into the hallway, and around the corner and said, "Okay, but we're gonna have to get in the back of the line." I thought he might be dissuaded but he headed for the hallway and soon we were standing near the bathrooms hoping our rides wouldn't leave without us.

On their radio show and podcast, Brant and Sherri often talk about being introverted and extroverted, reading social cues, high fives, hugs, eye contact, and what they've learned from each other about social interactions. Brant talks about having difficulty both reading and using social cues. He has autism so he learns to follow rules rather than instinct when he's interacting with people who don't have autism. So as the line is moving forward, I'm wondering how this interaction is going to go between Brant and him. He has an intellectual disability and Brant has autism. He doesn't follow social rules and Brant memorizes them. This interaction is bound to be interesting.

It's almost our turn so I review the plan. We will say hi, take a picture, and move on. (Sure we will.) "Do you want to wear your hat in the picture?" He takes it off. "Do you want to be in the picture by yourself or do you want us in it with you?" "Ya, you guys too," he says to me and our sister-in-law.

Before I even notice that the people ahead of us are done, I hear "HEYYYYY BUDDY!!!" He's rocking and rolling. High fives, side hugs, clearing his throat, putting his hand on his neck and singing low notes (off key), laughing really loudly, smiling, not making eye contact, striking lots of poses for the picture while showing off his singing "skills". Then he starts dancing. Oh my.

As we are taking the picture, I hear Brant say,"This is my favorite picture of the night!" I looked at Brant and his face is glowing with joy. Seriously? This is the guy who says that people usually see his facial expressions and think he's angry even though he's not. But, of course, not in this moment. He's all smiles as Nathan gives Brant his hat and Brant understands that Nathan wants him to sign it. He steps over to meet Sherri and I'm just trying to stay out of the way as he starts what looks like a touchdown celebration dance. She doesn't miss a beat and starts dancing too! He hands her his hat and she signs it too. He loves people and loves autographs. Sherri is still dancing as Nathan walks away. I'm still just trying to stay out of the way.

I will remember it as the night I got to meet Brant and Sherri and the night that Brant and Sherri got to meet Nathan. Suddenly, he turned into the celebrity they were excited to meet! I don't know how he manages to, in the same moment, be completely embarrassing to me and an incredible blessing to everyone else. He's got a gift. Best picture of the night? I guess. Most memorable? Absolutely!

Singing during the picture =
embarrassing Memorable

My moment was wonderful. I will remember it but I don't expect they will.
It went just like all of the other pictures went. There was no singing OR dancing.

This picture is my favorite because these two had already bonded and I'm just trying to catch up.

My 20th Anniversary

"Traditionally, the 20th anniversary was celebrated with china but in modern days, the official gift is platinum," says the internet.  Today marks my 20th anniversary of being a single adult. I'm accepting gifts of all shapes and sizes, please don't feel limited by tradition. I actually have enough china.

At first sight, this post may seem like a sad story or one that will turn into a pity party. It's the opposite. The fact is that God has been faithful in teaching me incredible things over the last twenty years. I've learned how to be independent, how to be interdependent, and how to be dependable. I'm still learning how to be dependent, that's a tough one for me.

God has taught me how to take care of other people and how to take care of myself, all while reminding me and showing me that He is the One caring for all of us. He's given me wonderful, life-giving friends who help keep me as sane as is possible and He uses them to remind me that my life is valuable. I've gotten to be an honorary aunt to all of my friends' kids. Time holding and playing with those kids, renews my strength and quiets my spirit. And then I get to go home and sleep in my own bed without anyone waking me up.

Owning a home and doing home improvement projects has been frustratingly fun and empowering! I can now install light fixtures, fix a toilet, demo a kitchen, sand and stain cabinets, install major appliances, repair a fence, fix irrigation pipes, and mix cement. I never aspired to learn any of those things but now I look forward to the next project.

Sure, I eat alone, sleep alone, make decisions alone but I'm not actually alone because God promised to never leave us or forsake us. Ever. Not in 20 years or for all of eternity. His love endures f o r e v e r.

No need to tilt your head and sigh while trying to think of something encouraging to say. Just smile and wish me a happy anniversary. Oh and platinum gifts are also acceptable.

the neon orange sticker

I have a like/hate relationship with this neon orange sticker.  I don't love it at all. It sets me apart and I struggle with that on a fundamental level.

The receptionist opens that drawer every time I enter the Central CA Blood Center,  peels off the paper from the back of the sticker, and hands it to me with the expectation that I will immediately put it on my shirt. It's the rule, I have to wear it. Part of me wants to because it's the difference between winching in pain and feeling a slight twinge of discomfort when they draw my blood. It's my ticket to the absolute best that is available. But the other part of me wants to cover it with my hand and quietly rip it off the second that receptionist turns her head.

So what if my blood type is O- and can be given to anyone and everyone?! It's the kind you give someone if you don't know their blood type. (Well, maybe not you, but a medical professional.) It's value exceeds that of all the others because it has the quality that the others don't have.  It won't hurt anyone. The best phlebotomist in the building is the one required to draw my blood. Only the best because this needs to go well. It needs to work. Failure is not an option because they need to save lives with this magic pint of blood. So what. Does that mean that other people should suffer more at the blood center? That people with type AB should be given the rookie who started yesterday and takes three tries to find the vein? No, not necessarily. But sometimes yes.

I love the scene at the end of the movie 'Ever After' when the wicked step mother tries to act superior to her wicked daughter and the daughter screams, "You're just the same as me, you big nobody!!!" The two of them are now on the same bottom rung of the social ladder. I don't know if the mother is more furious about them being servants or being equals! All she ever wanted was to be better than everyone else but the harder she tried, the farther she got from her goal. 

For as long as I can remember, I have wanted to be the same as my brothers. I wanted to be their ages. I wanted to be able to go shirtless and play outside like they did. I wanted glasses like they had. I wasn't to sing like my oldest brother and have the confidence of my older brother. I wanted us all to have the same IQ. I wanted people out in the world to treat us the same way and to understand that we were all broken in our own specific ways. I am not better than them, sweeter, or more loving than them. I am prettier though, I'll give you that.

Fortunately, I've learned some things over the years. Eventually I will be their ages and I will need glasses. Maybe someday I will work on my singing voice and will start walking up to people to give them 8 high fives but the chances are slim. And the fact of the matter is that I can't change our IQs. God gave each of us the level of intelligence that we have and each of those numbers is different. Most importantly, I've learn that same has a different definition than equal. My real goal is equality. 

But, this side of heaven, there is inequality. So I try to acknowledge the truths in the pray of serenity by accepting the things I cannot change and asking for courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to see the difference.

Oh, and it turns out, wearing a shirt is just good sense. Although, if I didn't have a shirt on, I bet no one would notice the neon orange sticker...

Top Ten Tips for a Father Raising a Daughter

Recently, my parents were asked by three fathers of daughters about advice for how to raise a daughter. These men have a total of 10 daughters between them all so I think my parents were feeling a little inexperienced having only raised one. Be that as it may, I still found their answers to be ridiculous. 

My mom: They asked us for advice on how to raise a daughter.

I think she expected a sarcastic remark from me like, “Wow, they must be hard up for advice!”

But instead I asked, “What’d you say?”

My mom: “I don’t have any!”

I looked at my dad. “I didn’t have anything to say either!”, he exclaimed.

Me: “Well, that’s ridiculous! You could have said all kinds of things! Why would you say nothing?”

They had no response. Then it dawned on me. My parents don’t give advice and they certainly don’t brag about themselves. They just don’t.

So I went to my room and started writing. I came up with a list of 10 tips for how to raise a daughter. I tore it out of my notebook and handed it to my dad. 

I will list them below, Letterman style: 

The Top Ten Tips for a Father Raising a Daughter

10. When she wants to tell you something, listen with all of your attention.

 9. Love your daughter more than anyone else (be her biggest fan) and remind her that God    loves her infinitely more

 8. Don’t tell her that being happy is the most important thing

 7. Talk about money and how to use it wisely

 6. Instead of yelling, explain calmly

 5. Say yes as much as possible so the no’s have more significance

 4. Teach her what trustworthy and honest look like by being those things all the time

 3. Figure out what motivates her and use that to help her process decisions

 2. Treat her and her mom like you want others to treat her

And the number one tip for a father to raising a daughter…

 1. Love her mom well

My dad did all of these things, not perfectly, but he did them. And you wanna know who taught him? My mom.

Rescued

I am often reminded that I look at the world first through the eyes of a sibling. I notice how people are treated, especially the vulnerable or at risk, the least of these. I compare and contrast. I contemplate and consider. It matters to me because I'm selfish and because I love my brother. He has a developmental disability. He and I have always been very close. So the selfish part of me doesn't want him to be treated any better than me and the loving part, of course, doesn't want him treated any worse either. I want us to be equals. Okay, most of the time I want that. Sometimes I want to be better than him but what sibling doesn't? Anyway, the fact is that the world doesn't see us as equals. The world doesn't see his value, initially. But when someone does, I notice and I remember. 

As I've gotten older, it's become clear to me that I care about how all people with disabilities are treated. I am especially passionate about how the Church treats them. I hear stats like 80% of families affected by disability do not attend church and I am grieved because of that inequality. Most families have at least two children so that means four people aren't hearing the gospel. Four people are feeling rejected and four people are not being given the opportunity to be part of the Body of Christ. 

When I was sitting on the steps of the ruins of the library in Ephesus, I heard a story that made my heart drop and then soar. It was being told by Shea Sumlin to our group of 39 people studying church history as we traveled through Turkey and Greece. 

The story was about how the Church reacted to the least of these. A doctor in the city wrote a book about how to determine if a newborn was worth keeping or not. The infant was judged based mostly on physical characteristics and health. If the baby was deemed worthless he or she would be thrown into the city's trash heap, left outside in the elements, or given to the slave traders. Babies were literally being thrown away, discarded like rotten food or used toilet paper. 

Then something remarkable started to happen. The babies were being rescued from the trash heap and the elements. The slave trades had to move on because their were no babies to sell. Oh parents were still rejecting them but the Church did not. The church of Ephesus was taking the babies in and raising them as their own. They saw that the infants were of infinite worth. They knew God loved these children and that alone was reason enough to rescue them.

It's a beautiful picture and example of how God rescues all of us. We are not just vulnerable and at risk, we are dead in our sins and He responds by giving His life to save us. His salvation is for everyone, no matter our earthy value. "For I am convinced that neither life nor death nor any other created thing shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord." (Romans 8:38) 

So how should the Church respond today? We can say with our lips that all people are welcome in our churches. We can claim to love our neighbor as ourself. We can insist we want everyone to come to church but do we want everyone to stay? If we don't want them to stay then we are Pharisees giving lip service. If we do want them to stay but don't provide a way to make it possible then we are hypocrites, nothing but the squeaking of a rusty gate. 

Let us be known to future generations as being like the church in Ephesus who saw the least of these and realized we are all one in Christ. 

The Library at Ephesus

Our Turkish tour guide Ozan explaining the history and the architecture 

Little did I know, I was about to have my mind blown after Ozan was done and Shea started teaching.

looking up from where I was sitting on the library steps

What an incredible location for a wedding shoot!

The End of Myself

Every year it happens. I throw a tantrum right before camp. I thought this year was going to be different because it hadn't happened yet but then, right as I was packing up the last of my things, it hit me. I DON'T WANT TO GO!!! It's kinda of like a 2 year old screaming she's not tired when clearly her eyes are closing and she's laying down. The truth is that I did want to go. All you need to do is mention camp and watch my eyes light up and a grin form from the frown and the truth is obvious. I clearly want to go. I'm just feel inadequate. Like a loving father scoops the protesting toddler up and into her bed to cry it out, God lets me work through my tantrum and get to the end of myself so that He can say, "Relax. No need to panic, I've got this."

The theme verse of the week could not have been more fitting to address my insecurities. Psalm 23:1 "The Lord is my Shepherd, I have everything I need." It's all right there, clearly God provides. He knows what I'm capable of and how much help I need. He's not worried about any of it. 

I was on the team that trained the 65 volunteers who came to serve at camp as STMs (Short Term Missionaries), so there was no room for me to act like a two year old. I needed to put my big girl pants on and act like a grown up, or at least a nine year old. The good news for me is that there is plenty of room for silliness and play. This video, shot by an incredible STM, is me being my true self. I thought she was keeping the camera on the camper so I was really letting it go!

My favorite thing about the Joni and Friend Family Retreat is that there is life change happening every minute of every day through the silly and the serious. There is universal acceptance and unbridled love in the midst of immense pain and suffering. There is rest from the battle fatigue that most of the families carry with them to camp.  That rest is possible because of those 65 STMs that are paired up with a camper. The campers are either people with disabilities or their siblings. Every year I get to see first hand how God transformed them from being wide eyed and scared on the first day to being in awe of what just happened to them. They learns lessons that they will carry with them for the rest of their lives. Here are three of my favorite STM stories from this week. *I've changed the names to protect or to be mysterious or something like that.*

STM Paul's story

Watched episode of House about a rare and fatal disease. Goggled it. Cried. Wrote a paper about it for school and was devastated by its effects on people. Hoped to never know someone who would be going through that kind of suffering. Came to JAF Retreat and read his camper's dx. Wept and didn't think he could handle it. Met Jimmy. Bonded with him. Got beat at UNO repeatedly. Had one of the best weeks of his life. Saw the man, not just the disease. Life changed forever. 

STM Silas' story

Had no experience with people affected by disability. Got recruited to serve at camp. Went through training with great concern and trembling. Face full of questions, concerns, and doubt in his own abilities. Met his camper John and suddenly realized none of this was about himself. John was the celebrity in this scenario and Silas was the assistant that held John's keys and organized his schedule of appearances. John was the teacher and Silas was now a wide eyed eager student who felt honored to have the privilege of attending John's school. Perspective forever shifted. Life turned right side up. 

STM Martha's story 

Her sisters couldn't come this year so she wasn't going to either. Then she realized there was no reason not to come. God changed her heart and not only did she want to come but deep down she was hoping to be matched with one specific camper. A difficult one. A challenge. She didn't want to get her hopes up to high lest she be disappointed with her assignment. Sunday night came and she rubbed her eyes and blinked back tears as she read the name of the one she was hoping for right there in print. God had a divine appointment for those two and it looked like it was one of the best weeks of both of their lives. Martha is coming back every year no matter what. She's hooked.

Joni and Friend Family Retreat 2017 had all the plot twists, drama, and comic relief of an oscar worthy movie. And by the end of it, the truth was clear: The Lord was our Shepherd, we had everything we needed.

I'm not happy all the time.

confident day

rough day

People often comment that it seems like I never have a bad day, that I'm always in a good mood. It's a nice reputation to have but not entirely accurate. So, for some reason, I feel like dispelling that myth today. Here goes: yesterday was a rough day for me. I was reacting to life in a much more emotional way than I usually do and was feeling a little bit crazy. Over the course of the morning, I found myself reaching for tissue after tissue. I would use one, think I was done crying only to find myself needing another one as the tears kept flowing.

What in the world was wrong with me? Was a loved one in the hospital? Had a pet just died? Did something bad happen to me? Nope. None of the above. I was completely unproductive at work and ended up taking some benefit time off to try to shake this bizarre feeling. I had made plans to see my sister and, even though I had text her visual proof of my instability, she wasn't afraid and still showed up to have lunch with me. She's a brave one and it helps that she loves me. It turns out this emotional roller coaster is what is scientifically defined as being a woman. Good grief. I didn't really believe the science lesson until about 9:30pm, when my hormones decided to balance themselves out and my sanity was restored! Well, at least to within normal limits for me. I was amazed at how different I felt from one moment to the next.

There are also days when I wake up feeling confident. I like to take full advantage of those days by doing something bold with my hair and sometimes even wearing lipstick. (gasp!) For some reason wearing lipstick feels like I'm putting on a sign asking people to look at me. So I wear it about twice a year. Every other day you'll find me happily applying whatever flavor of lip smackers is within arms reach. Strawberry Kiwi Comet is my favorite. I love that stuff slightly more than an adult person probably should. It's simply the best. Okay, enough with the product endorsement.

My point here in not to say I'm unstable, nor is it a cry for help. I'm actually fine. I have good days and bad days just like every other human and today I felt like talking about it. So there you have it, I'm not happy all of the time. I don't think that fact is shocking or surprising but many times we don't share statements like that online. We tend to share highs and, occasionally, tragic lows, but not as many boring old real emotions. How are you feeling today?

Grandma

Growing up, she was a refuge to me and each of my brothers. We went to her for wisdom, solace, coke, and candy. We each had a bond with her that was unique and individual. She was sarcastic and hilarious with me, understanding and accepting with Nathan, and compassionate and spiritually deep with Edward. She and Grandpa lived around the corner from us for our entire childhoods. It was a milestone for me when I was old enough to walk to grandma's by myself. We spend many hours together playing card games, doing puzzles, and watching sports.

One distinct memory I have was when I was in 1st grade learning to read. I went to grandma's after school and she was quilting. I stretched out on the orange floral sectional and started reading my book out loud to her. I had trouble with just about every 3rd word so I would stop and ask her what the word was. She would graciously tell me and I continued to hobble through the book that way. It must have been excruciating to listen to and impossible to get any quilting done. But she never gave any indication that she was bothered by any part of the experience. I remember feeling so accomplished when I finished that book and so grateful for her help. I turned an important corner that day in my struggle to learn to read.

Another important milestone was when Nathan was tall enough to reach the latch to grandma's back gate. It meant we could go through the backyard instead of having to trek all the way around to the front door. We were so proud of ourselves when we didn't need mom to get us in the "back way". We almost always showed up without warning and were never turned away. I always got a burst of joy in my heart when Grandma's face lit up and she hurried to the sliding door to welcome us in. 

My grandma loves as perfectly as a human can love and does so with all her heart, soul, mind, and strength. When we all get to heaven, I hope I get to live around the corner from her forever.