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Social Media: Building Your Wisdom Pyramid: Part 6

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I originally wrote this for the wonderful change agents at Evangelicals for Social Action to kick off the new year in January, 2018. Because I’m still working to flip my pyramid many months later at the beginning of the new school year, I’m posting it here and linking back to the originals. Current events will always require rigorous thought, reflection, and action. How can the Bible, church, nature & beauty, the internet, and social media help and/or hurt us? Please join me in the struggle to find true wisdom. Today is our final segment.

wisdom pyramid

©Brett McCracken

Part Six

Social Media

The power of social media grows every day. According to Forbes, over 78% of Americans have a social network profile. More than three quarters of our population is doing some sort of image management or cyber-stalking when they’re online. In the real world, we share our thoughts, go shopping, look in the mirror, and engage in politics…and then we do it all over again, and more, on social media, often with strangers.

Our opinions of everything from haircuts to classmates to church to our president are swayed by likes and comments on Twitter and Instagram. We buy new apps, mascara, and music based on glowing reviews in private groups on Facebook. We see everyone from kids to world leaders bullying and trolling on Twitter, screenshots blazing out on the nightly news and talk shows.

Social media can be a minefield. Without a strong tether, without wisdom, our beliefs about ourselves and our world will sway in the strong, unrelenting wind created by the often unfiltered opinions of 2.44 billion people.

But social media can have hugely positive impacts, as well. The World Economic Forum reports that among the 2.44 billion people using social media, many are making positive changes in public health, government, disaster response, human rights, and climate change. We are more exposed to major issues, big ideas, and global crises. We learn from each other’s personal tragedies and successes about who, what, when, where, and how to respond to be a part of a world of progress.

But of course, some days on social media we just roll our eyes at others’ opinions, promote ourselves, watch movie trailers, and become P.I.’s looking for ex-boyfriends.

Whether we realize it or not, our time on social media matters. It shapes our opinions, buying habits, self-image, and political system. It delights and infuriates us. It connects and divides us as people.

wisdom pyramid

©Brett McCracken

Questions:

  1. How often do you check your social media accounts for likes and comments? Do you think you are addicted, or have you slayed this dragon? How do you define “addiction” to social media? Does your definition always leave you safely just on the other side?
  2. Remember the verse about guarding our minds? Or this one: “Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things”? Are the people you follow on social media helping you “think about these things?” Does your activity online reveal a heart focused on wisdom?
  3. Do you spend more time on social media then reading the Bible, connecting with your church, reveling in the world God has created, or reading books? What could you add or subtract to flip your pyramid?

Next Steps:

  1. The most common reason people cite for social media usage is “keeping in touch with family and friends.” Monitor yourself for a week: how much time do you actually spend sharing family stories with your grandma or connecting in meaningful dialogue with people you care about? How much do you spend pining over Pinterest or lurking on strangers’ vacation photos?
  2. Go through your social media accounts. Delete or unfollow the people that pull you away from Biblical wisdom and godly living. Pray for humility and discernment before attempting this: our desire to be cool, relevant and informed is strong.
  3. Consider a social media fast. Hide all the social media apps on your device for a set number of hours, or even a whole day. Perhaps ask a friend to do it with you. If this is too hard, consider praying about the desire and will to try it before the end of the month.
  4. Most of us fall into the traps of image management and instant gratification on social media. Prayerfully consider if your pictures, words, and comments are reflecting your true self with integrity. Are you giving more than you receive online?
  5. Search your social media platforms for people and causes that make your heart sing. Add ten that will delight and inform you.
  6. Do you have a trusted family member or friend—perhaps from an older generation, but not necessarily—who doesn’t use social media? Ask this person for feedback on the amount of time you spend on social media.
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Building Your Wisdom Pyramid: Now What?

  1. Before you click off this screen, write down three questions or next steps from our journey through the Wisdom Pyramid that caught your attention. You could write on a post-it to put on the back of your phone, write in a journal, or send yourself a text.
  2. Visit this series again next week, and choose three more questions or next steps to take. Consider asking a friend or a small group to join you.
  3. Share what’s working for you with us. In the comments below, tell us what Bible studies, books, websites, and social media accounts are igniting your wisdom and understanding.

We’ve covered a lot of ground in six posts, and there’s a lot to think about here. Perhaps some of these questions have left you feeling agitated and defensive. I know I feel that way, but let’s not lose heart: “Do not forsake wisdom, and she will protect you; love her, and she will watch over you. The beginning of wisdom is this: Get wisdom. Though it cost all you have, get understanding.” (Proverbs 4:6-7)

Thank you for exploring the Wisdom Pyramid with us through this series! We hope you feel encouraged, convicted and equipped to grow in wisdom.

Wisdom Pyramid

©Brett McCracken

***********

My previous posts for ESA:

  • Heroes or Neighbors? –  “So what does this have to do with refugees?” I asked my kids at breakfast. “I don’t know. Maybe the naked part?” my son offered. “He’s naked? That’s what ‘stripped him…”
  • Sign of the Times – “I think I’ve changed my mind. I don’t think we should do this.” I bit my lip and put my hands in my pockets. “Don’t be nervous. Be proud. This is…”
  • 2018: Building Your Wisdom Pyramid – “I’m not thinking of what my mind and soul need—I’m thinking of what feels good. But instead of dismissing this pyramid as being too aspirational, let’s wrestle…”
  • Building Your Wisdom Pyramid: The Church – “In the best version of our world, the church is where we learn how to put the wisdom we glean from the Bible into action. No church is perfect, but…”
  • Building Your Wisdom Pyramid: Nature & Beauty – “Write out a moment you’ve experienced in nature and ask the question, “God, what are you teaching me here about yourself?”
  • Building Your Wisdom Pyramid: Books – “But a recent study by the Pew Research Centershows that 26% of adults in the United States haven’t read a single book, in any format, in a year. That’s more than a quarter of the population!”
  • Building Your Wisdom Pyramid: The Internet –  “When you turn the screens off, do you feel refreshed and renewed? Or are you dazed, disoriented, or confused?”

©Aimee Fritz & Family Compassion Focus, 2018.

The Internet – Building Your Wisdom Pyramid – Part 5

Published by

I originally wrote this for the wonderful change agents at Evangelicals for Social Action to kick off the new year in January, 2018. Because I’m still working to flip my pyramid many months later at the beginning of the new school year, I’m posting it here and linking back to the originals. Current events will always require rigorous thought, reflection, and action. How can the Bible, church, nature & beauty, the internet, and social media help and/or hurt us? Please join me in the struggle to find true wisdom. This is part 5 of 6.

wisdom pyramid

©Brett McCracken

Part Five

The Internet

If you’re reading this, you’re online. You’ve chosen to spend some of your time (perhaps wisdom acquisition time?) on a website dedicated to social justice. Where will you click next? One of the dozens of links on this page? Over to some cute animal videos on YouTube? Or will you get revved up in the constant sensationalism of the news cycle?

wisdom pyramid

©Brett McCracken


Questions:

  1. How much time do you spend online? More to the point, how many hours a week (or day!) do you spend on internet rabbit trails, hopping from site to site, wondering where the time went?
  2. Where do you spend your time online? Does it increase your wisdom and understanding? Does it pull your heart closer to or further from God? Not to sound like a shaming Sunday School teacher, but sometimes it might be worth it to ask: would you want Jesus looking at whatever’s on your screen?
  3. What sites nourish your soul? Do you follow your church, favorite authors, or thought leaders online? Do you use your screen time to read the Bible or other books? Does your time online guide you toward deeper sources of wisdom, joy, and gratitude?
  4. When you turn the screens off, do you feel refreshed and renewed? Or are you dazed, disoriented, or confused?

Next Steps:

  1. If you don’t know how much time you spend online, consider using a timer for one day—or even just for one hour. When you turn on your screen, set your phone timer for 10 minutes, or get up and use the timer on your microwave. How far did you get? After 10 minutes, were you just getting started with all your daily check-ins? Are you starving for more information? Have you done anything with the previous levels of the Wisdom Pyramid first? If you need more time, set the timer for another 10 minutes. See how much online time you need to be sated. Do you need to set a time limit tomorrow? (Many apps can help manage or curb your time on the internet. This article by Inc.com offers 6 suggestions.)
  2. If you don’t know where to find nourishment online, make this a priority in the month. Instead of passively receiving whatever comes through your feeds, you might need to actively go out and look for things that will feed you instead of deplete you. Scroll through the sites of people you trust to see where they find their information, and explore those places for yourself. In what areas would you like to develop an expertise?
  3. Spend time on sites curated by people championing different cultures, races, denominations, and ideas. Enter these sites as a humble, listening learner. When you learn something new, leave positive comments or share it on your own social media.
  4. Awareness and balance are essential to growing in understanding. If you can do so without succumbing to anger, go to the sites that frustrate you. Seek to understand the information being shared, and how it’s shared. But a caution: until you’ve spent a long time on the other levels of the Wisdom Pyramid, and prayed for clarity and humility, do not engage. And it goes without saying, do not troll. Any website. Ever.
  5. What websites do you recommend in this quest for wisdom? Share with us in the comments!

Tomorrow we’re tackling wisdom and social media. Can they be found together?

Wisdom Pyramid

©Brett McCracken

***********

My previous posts for ESA:

  • Heroes or Neighbors? –  “So what does this have to do with refugees?” I asked my kids at breakfast. “I don’t know. Maybe the naked part?” my son offered. “He’s naked? That’s what ‘stripped him…”
  • Sign of the Times – “I think I’ve changed my mind. I don’t think we should do this.” I bit my lip and put my hands in my pockets. “Don’t be nervous. Be proud. This is…”
  • 2018: Building Your Wisdom Pyramid – “I’m not thinking of what my mind and soul need—I’m thinking of what feels good. But instead of dismissing this pyramid as being too aspirational, let’s wrestle…”
  • Building Your Wisdom Pyramid: The Church – “In the best version of our world, the church is where we learn how to put the wisdom we glean from the Bible into action. No church is perfect, but…”
  • Building Your Wisdom Pyramid: Nature & Beauty – “Write out a moment you’ve experienced in nature and ask the question, “God, what are you teaching me here about yourself?”
  • Building Your Wisdom Pyramid: Books – “But a recent study by the Pew Research Centershows that 26% of adults in the United States haven’t read a single book, in any format, in a year. That’s more than a quarter of the population!”

©Aimee Fritz & Family Compassion Focus, 2018.

Books – Building Your Wisdom Pyramid – Part 4

Published by

I originally wrote this for the wonderful change agents at Evangelicals for Social Action to kick off the new year in January, 2018. Because I’m still working to flip my pyramid many months later at the beginning of the new school year, I’m posting it here and linking back to the originals. Current events will always require rigorous thought, reflection, and action. How can the Bible, church, nature & beauty, the internet, and social media help and/or hurt us? Please join me in the struggle to find true wisdom.

wisdom pyramid

©Brett McCracken

Part Four

Books

Some people just love buying, collecting, and discussing books. But a recent study by the Pew Research Centershows that 26% of adults in the United States haven’t read a single book, in any format, in a year. That’s more than a quarter of the population!

We read our texts, emails, magazines in the doctor’s office, and posts on social media, but often not books. Perhaps it’s because we don’t know what to read, or they’re too bulky, or seem too long. But maybe we need to try.

We grow in wisdom when our attention is forced to extend beyond 280 characters. We harness our attention, will, and self-discipline when we commit to walk along with an author for hundreds of pages, learning the genesis, development, and application of their ideas. Reading books both relaxes and stretches our thinking. Psychology Today reports that “becoming engrossed in a novel enhances connectivity in the brain and improves brain function. Interestingly, reading fiction was found to improve the reader’s ability to put themselves in another person’s shoes and flex the imagination in a way that is similar to the visualization of a muscle memory in sports.”

When we forgo reading books, we are missing out on opportunities for wisdom.

Questions:

  1. How many books do you read a year? Do you spend more time reading books or hanging out on social media? Do you read books more or less often than you read the Bible?
  2. Do the books you choose to read increase your wisdom and understanding? Are you reading to escape, or to inform? How could you find a good balance?
  3. What books are missing in your reading history and your current library? Do you read books written by people of color, about something other than being a person of color? Do you read both cross-cultural classics and new releases?  Do you read books about theology? Do you read authors you know you won’t agree with?
  4. What are the people you respect reading?

Next Steps:

  1. If your device is always with you, consider putting books on your device. Classics and new releases are available to download and can be as accessible as our social media. Consider adding reading apps to your phone and tablets; apps like Goodreads allow you to set reading goals and track your progress
  2. Gene Luen Yang, the National Ambassador for Young People’s Literature, has three guidelines for selecting books to broaden your horizons: Read a book about a character who doesn’t look like you or live like you, read a book about a topic you don’t know much about, and read a book in a format that you don’t normally read. Maybe the next book you buy, download, or check out from the library could be written by a person of color, a woman in power, or a long-gone mystic.
  3. Challenge yourself to read a book by and/or about a person with whom you do not agree. Consider tackling an opposing political view, or a different religion. Make a list of questions as you read, and then find a real live person to ask and learn from with humility and respect.
  4. Find out what the people you respect are reading. Ask leaders at your local church what books they recommend. Go to the blogs of the teachers and influencers you admire and write down the books that shaped their thinking, and the books they are writing.
  5. ESA recently published a recommended reading list if you’re looking for a place to start!

Tomorrow’s wisdom quest topic might make you uncomfortable, as we’re going to talk about how you use the internet. Maybe today is a good day to curl up with a good book in preparation!

Wisdom Pyramid

©Brett McCracken

***********

My previous posts for ESA:

  • Heroes or Neighbors? –  “So what does this have to do with refugees?” I asked my kids at breakfast. “I don’t know. Maybe the naked part?” my son offered. “He’s naked? That’s what ‘stripped him…”
  • Sign of the Times – “I think I’ve changed my mind. I don’t think we should do this.” I bit my lip and put my hands in my pockets. “Don’t be nervous. Be proud. This is…”
  • 2018: Building Your Wisdom Pyramid – “I’m not thinking of what my mind and soul need—I’m thinking of what feels good. But instead of dismissing this pyramid as being too aspirational, let’s wrestle…”
  • Building Your Wisdom Pyramid: The Church – “In the best version of our world, the church is where we learn how to put the wisdom we glean from the Bible into action. No church is perfect, but…”
  • Building Your Wisdom Pyramid: Nature & Beauty – “Write out a moment you’ve experienced in nature and ask the question, “God, what are you teaching me here about yourself?”

©Aimee Fritz & Family Compassion Focus, 2018.

Nature & Beauty – Building Your Wisdom Pyramid – Part 3

Published by

I originally wrote this for the wonderful change agents at Evangelicals for Social Action to kick off the new year in January, 2018. Because I’m still working to flip my pyramid many months later at the beginning of the new school year, I’m posting it here and linking back to the originals. Current events will always require rigorous thought, reflection, and action. How can the Bible, church, nature & beauty, the internet, and social media help and/or hurt us? Please join me in the struggle to find true wisdom.

wisdom pyramid

©Brett McCracken

Part Three

Nature and Beauty

Our collective response to the August 2017 solar eclipse proves the power nature has to delight, humble, and unite us. When we soak in the transcendent beauty of a star, a planet, a mountain top, an ocean wave, or a newborn baby, we must acknowledge that we didn’t and couldn’t make those things happen. There is something much larger than us at work. In similar ways, the beauty in art and music can lure us toward something greater, capture our unspoken longings, and give us the opportunity to respond with our hearts.

IMG-7329

©Brett McCracken

Questions:

  1. What wisdom have you learned from nature? The power of light over darkness during the eclipse? The hope of new life when bulbs begin to bloom? The necessary deaths every autumn? The patience of slow erosion? When is the last time you went for a walk?
  2. Brett McCracken quotes a headline from the L.A. Times: “We may live in a post-truth era, but nature does not.” Do you agree with this statement? How would you explain it?
  3. What art or music has shaped your soul? How many soul-shaping pieces are from your own culture, and how many from other cultures? Do you look for wisdom when you turn on Spotify, watch movies, or go to museums? What does that wisdom look like?
  4. How does your church incorporate nature and beauty into her existence? Does your church have windows? Does it use the arts to convey Biblical truths?

Next Steps:

  1. Write out a moment you’ve experienced in nature and ask the question, “God, what are you teaching me here about yourself?”
  2. Reflect on your favorite human-made and God-made creations. What kind of wisdom is shown in each? How does the contrast make you feel about power, death, ambition, and peace?
  3. Are you active in caring for creation? Does your church act responsibly in terms of building practices, recycling, and her electric bill?

Tomorrow, we’ll talk about finding wisdom in books. Until then, make time today to look for God’s fingerprints all throughout creation.

Wisdom Pyramid

©Brett McCracken

***********

My previous posts for ESA:

  • Heroes or Neighbors? –  “So what does this have to do with refugees?” I asked my kids at breakfast. “I don’t know. Maybe the naked part?” my son offered. “He’s naked? That’s what ‘stripped him…”
  • Sign of the Times – “I think I’ve changed my mind. I don’t think we should do this.” I bit my lip and put my hands in my pockets. “Don’t be nervous. Be proud. This is…”
  • 2018: Building Your Wisdom Pyramid – “I’m not thinking of what my mind and soul need—I’m thinking of what feels good. But instead of dismissing this pyramid as being too aspirational, let’s wrestle…”
  • Building Your Wisdom Pyramid: The Church – “In the best version of our world, the church is where we learn how to put the wisdom we glean from the Bible into action. No church is perfect, but…”

©Aimee Fritz & Family Compassion Focus, 2018.

September 23, 2018

Published by

[I’ve been advised that I need to say this post mentions sexual assault and raw personal stories. It is not intended to be political. Grace and peace to you. -Aimee]

Friends, I hate politics and I’m not sharing these thoughts to be political. I’ve never been smitten with any president or political party. I know everyone is human and flawed. I know power corrupts everyone. I know all our hurts and hopes shape us and those we choose to follow.

As a person who is seeking to learn how to listen, empathize, and enter in, my heart is continually broken. As a person humbly exploring what writing about, advocating for, acting on behalf of, and shepherding my children toward what just mercy is all about, I’ve been aching and grieving over the darkness that invades so many people’s lives.

Some days I pray a lot. Some days I swear a lot. Some days I hide from the news. Some days I read all the news. Some days I do a small act of kindness or justice. Most days I don’t. Most days I ask, “what are you asking me to do about all this, Lord?” I admit I can hardly pray anymore, as Bob Pierce did, “Let my heart be broken by the things that break the heart of God.”

This weekend I was agitated. I went to bed angry, dreamed angry dreams, and woke up angry. I woke up ready to FIGHT for truth and justice, to listen and advocate and pray. This weekend my heart was broken (again) for women who have endured the entire spectrum of sexual violence – rapes, assaults, taunts, touches, pornography; by family, friends, strangers; at home, at school, in cars, on buses, at sleepovers, at the office, online, in their own beds. It’s too much.

©Danielle Crilly www.dcrilly.com

©Danielle Crilly http://www.dcrilly.com

I prayed and drafted out the conversations we needed to have with each of our kids about bodies, sex, boundaries, inherent value, “NO,” choices, justice, mercy, respect, dating, consent, marriage [we had these conversations again; we’ve had them before, and now again in ways appropriate to their older ages]. They were hard, uncomfortable talks, but we did it anyway. I pray we’ve laid another strong layer on a foundation of trust and truth with our dear kids. We’ll have these talks again.

I texted and/or called my friends who have gone public with their rapes and assaults and suffered deeply (in their years of not reporting and in their time since reporting). I told them I loved them and was proud of them.

I remembered the friends who will never, ever report, but in the last 32 years have asked me to listen to them and/or pray for them when they told me about the uncles, brothers, cousins, soldiers, boyfriends, high school sweethearts, husbands, friend’s dads, dad’s friends, neighbors, doctors, and/or classmates that shoved them against walls, pulled down their pants, pulled up their nighties, touched them in their most tender places, held them down, made them bleed, made them dirty, made them cry, made them scared, made them silent.

(The roles of people listed above are all from the heartbreaking stories my own friends and family shared with me. I understand it is also tragically common to endure this violence from dads, step-dads, step-brothers, coaches, teachers, babysitters, pastors, youth group leaders, bosses, colleagues, camp counselors, policemen, and others put in the role of authority and care.)

©Danielle Crilly www.dcrilly.com

©Danielle Crilly http://www.dcrilly.com

I cried on my walks this weekend thinking about the suffering women have endured since the very beginning. The ways we haven’t been protected, the ways we’ve been blamed, the ways we’ve been used, the ways we’ve been lied to, the ways we’ve been violated in the most sinister and ugly ways. I cried about the power. The abuse of power. About how all the sex stuff is about power. I cried with God wondering what I’m supposed to do about it. Wondering what he’s going to do about it.

I prayed for the people in power in our country, churches, and influencing places. I prayed for the accused in the news and the accusers in the news. I got mad. I got scared. I got annoyed. I got mad again. I prayed with silence and breath.

In my silence I felt shame, probably a kind of survivors guilt. That what I’ve endured isn’t that bad. But then, in the silence, with the crickets chirping and my dog’s little steps on the pavement, a steady list streamed into my thoughts. Not criminal, but certainly dark and formative. Scary and unjust.

 

I thought about the older, wealthy, distinguished business leaders I worked for in my twenties. If one of them decided to run for office would I say something? Would I think it was important that they liked to corner me when they came to the office? That they licked their lips and stared at my body when I greeted them for meetings? That they told me they didn’t care what was on the agenda but they came to see what I was wearing, and how it made them happy when I wore dresses? That when I reported it to the leaders of that organization I was told with scorn and contempt, “Who do you think you are? Do you think your “feelings getting hurt” is more important that the money these men give to help the poorest of the poor?” That my husband begged me to quit. That when I finally did, HR was so mad at my lack of loyalty they made up an excuse for my leaving and emailed it out before I could draft something? That a female board member took me out to lunch to explain what I “was going to have to learn about men to make it in business.”? I felt weak. I remember all their names.

©Danielle Crilly www.dcrilly.com

©Danielle Crilly http://www.dcrilly.com

I thought about the crazy high school boys I hung out with on mission trips and youth group meetings, at after school activities, in basements and crowded cars, alone and in large groups. I was spared a lot, because my mom loved me and taught me really high boundaries, and I was very, very untrusting of boys. But still, I did have a boy ask to sit next to me on a 19 hour bus ride who had a reputation for “tickling” girls and “fell asleep” with his hand on my breast gently squeezing it from underneath, and when I moved to get away his other hand pushed my ribs into the brightly upholstered seat so it hurt to breathe. I was so thankful when the leader said that he wanted girls to sit with girls for that leg of the trip. If that tickling guy was running for office, would I say something?

IMG_7359

©Danielle Crilly http://www.dcrilly.com

I thought about the guys I loved hanging out with the most in high school, and how one night they invited me to watch a movie with them. When they turned it on it was graphic porn. I ran up the stairs to get out of the basement, but the door was locked. I couldn’t get out. And if I could get out, I didn’t drive there and I couldn’t get home. They were rolling with laughter. I sat on the top step hugging my knees to my chest and covering my ears. Two of the guys made the host turn it off, then they apologized to me. One other guy apologized when I came back downstairs. The host rolled his eyes and said nothing. I was never alone with the host again after that.

©Danielle Crilly www.dcrilly.com

©Danielle Crilly http://www.dcrilly.com

I thought about a known lothario at my conservative Christian college. Who had a not-too-subtle plan to date every girl on our floor. When he asked me out I said yes. I guess I wanted to be included? But 10 minutes on our way to the fancy restaurant he insinuated that him paying for my fancy dinner entitled him to my body. That was a hard pass from me. I laughed like he was joking and crossed my arms and legs and leaned into the passenger door. I was trapped in the car. At the restaurant I stopped talking to him, and he flirted hard with the waitress and I said I would take a cab home and he could stay with her. He called me a bitch for the rest of the night. A couple months later he went out with one of my friends and raped her. He raped her. It messed her up. She wouldn’t report it because he was very scary and very flirty and had a way of getting out of everything. I told her I would go with her to the Dean. She refused. So one night, when everyone was studying in the lobby of our dorm he sauntered in and sat down on the coffee table in front of me. I have no idea what he was saying because all I wanted to do was get justice for my friend. So I leaned toward him and said, “I know what you did to _____.” He played dumb. I said, “I know you raped her. You RAPED her.” He said I was an ugly virgin and didn’t know how things really worked. It was snowing and I had huge hiking boots on from the 3 week wilderness trip I took before college started; I leaned back and kicked him in both knee caps with my big ugly boots. He fell over to the side and muttered, “You Are Such A Bitch. I’m going to kick the shit out of you.” And in my adrenaline and bravado I said, “Do it, ____. I hope you hit me right here so all these people can finally know the truth about you.” He swore at me more and limped away. My friend never reported him. If he ran for office I would beg my old college friend to say something. I would pay for her plane tickets and start a gofundme to help cover her legal fees.

©Danielle Crilly www.dcrilly.com

©Danielle Crilly http://www.dcrilly.com

I have so many more stories. Every woman I know does. About the catcalls, the fast walking across a dark campus or quiet street, the guys you thought were friends that get handsy and then hurt, the classmates who whisper what they do to you in their dreams as they pass the worksheets down the row, the guys following you to the bathroom and walking in pretending to be lost, the terror of silent parking garages, the coy ways to get a man to stay out of your apartment, making yourself ugly to get a guy to pay attention to someone else, having a hand on the handle in the cab ready to jump and roll when the driver says, “you’re in my car, i can do whatever i want to you. hahahahaha.” The lewd jokes. The verbal, extensive body critiques. How scary it is to let the landlord/cable guy/plumber in your house when no one else is there.

(If this doesn’t resonate with you, you could search #whyididntreport on google, twitter, facebook, or instagram and read thousands of stories of why boys, girls, women, and men did not report the sexual crimes committed against them. It’s very hard to keep reading and scrolling through all that darkness. I had to stop.)

©Danielle Crilly www.dcrilly.com

©Danielle Crilly http://www.dcrilly.com

I have another huge knot to unravel in all this as a Christian woman. Is it all Eve’s fault? How is that possible? Was Adam too weak to say anything? I mean, seriously? Why were those spies in Rahab’s place of business? Proverbs makes women sound terrible. Why are there no long allegory Proverbs telling women to run far, far away from predatory men? Why were all those patriarchs so messed up? Oh my goodness, David did not protect women at all, but was a “man after God’s own heart”? Lord, help me understand. Did Paul hate women as much as the feminists like to say he did? Why is it ok for me to wear earrings now, but not preach in some places? Why do some men think they have the right to lead and dominate, when the Bible clearly says husbands are to love their wives like Christ loved the church – wasn’t that about bringing dignity to the scorned, healing the sick and despised, foot washing, being beaten, being killed? Jesus wasn’t macho or dominant – why in the world do Christian men think that’s what God wants them to do? If you need to feel powerful do crossfit or something.

The story that’s in the news – I have no idea if that awful story happened decades ago. (Maybe it didn’t, maybe she’s a pawn/liar/very sick person. But the people saying this woman is lying were certain Monica Lewinsky was telling the truth. What does that mean?) If it happened, that nominee could say, “It was a long time ago and I was drunk/lonely/____ and I did it. I thought it was mutual, but obviously it wasn’t. I thought that it was normal because all my friends talked like it was. I never really thought about it after that night. But I hear that it hurt you. That you’ve been going to counseling and mentioning my name long before I was a public figure. I am sorry. I am sorry I hurt you back in high school. I’m not trying to buy your forgiveness or your silence, but I’d like to do what I can to make it right. Here is money to cover your counseling plus this much extra. I assure you I didn’t do anything like that again. Ask around. I will own up to my mistakes. Will you forgive me?” That’s the pathway EVERY HUMAN needs to walk down to move past our mistakes from our youth and from last week.

Regardless of what happens in this current news story, if your heart is broken because of past hurts, fresh hurts, world issues, and human suffering, know you are not alone. If you need a safe place to report something awful, I can be that place. I’m absolutely not a trauma specialist, and I will probably cry with you, but I’m a learning listener.

You are loved.

– Aimee

All gorgeous art in this post is by ©Danielle Crilly, inspired by the beauty and haunting of her healing journey. All images used with permission. To use these images please contact Danielle Crilly via http://www.dcrilly.com or in the comments below.

All words and written ideas by ©Aimee Fritz & Family Compassion Focus, 2018. Please share online with attribution as you find helpful, but do not print or reproduce for profit without written permission requested and replied to in the comments below or through familycompassionfocus@gmail.com. Thank you.

©Danielle Crilly

©Danielle Crilly http://www.dcrilly.com

The Church – Building Your Wisdom Pyramid – Part 2

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I originally wrote this for the wonderful change agents at Evangelicals for Social Action to kick off the new year in January, 2018. Because I’m still working to flip my pyramid many months later at the beginning of the new school year, I’m posting it here and linking back to the originals. Current events will always require rigorous thought, reflection, and action. How can the Bible, church, nature & beauty, the internet, and social media help and/or hurt us? Please join me in the struggle to find true wisdom. This is the second of six posts.

wisdom pyramid

©Brett McCracken

 

Part Two

The Church: “Local & Tradition”

In the best version of our world, the church is where we learn how to put the wisdom we glean from the Bible into action. No church is perfect, but so many churches are serving the people of God eagerly, with wisdom and grace. How can we partner with the church, actively giving, receiving, praying, and serving those in our community? For myself, I’m trying to discern my role in my current church’s mission and methods toward compassionate, humble, and courageous social justice. What does partnering with a church look like for you?

wisdom pyramid - church

©Brett McCracken

Questions:

  1. Do you belong to and/or serve in your local church? Why or why not?
  2. Is your church using the Bible as the foundation of her wisdom pyramid? What does that look like? Is your church primarily Scripture-based or experience-based? Is Scripture read? Do you talk about the Bible? Why or why not?
  3. How does your church spend her money? How does she care for the poor and the vulnerable? Is your church tainted with a hidden “health & wealth” theology? Where do you fall in that? Are you comfortable tithing, participating in the church’s vision and values?
  4. Do you rely on your church to guide you toward wisdom and understanding? Does your church routinely and thoughtfully address current events? Do she guide and equip you for just and merciful action?
  5. Does everyone in your church look like you? If so, what could you do to encourage your church membership to more closely mirror the kingdom of heaven?
  6. How could you partner with churches of different neighborhoods, denominations, languages, or income levels? How many churches other than your own have you recently attended?
  7. What church traditions appeal to you, and help you connect with the living God? Communion, liturgy, service, worship? What other traditions could you explore?

Next Steps

  1. Determine how many churches are meeting in your area, by driving around and/or doing a Google search. Make note of how many different denominations, ethnicities, socio-economic groups, and worship styles gather on regular weekend. As Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove writes, “there is a problem with the segregated Sabbath.” Pick three churches you’d like to visit this winter Maybe take other parishioners from your home church with you.
  2. Review your church’s mission and values statement. Is the Bible mentioned? Look at the budget—how are the church’s funds distributed? If you have questions for your church, prayerfully consider talking with a pastor or elder.
  3. Read Isaiah 61 and Luke 4:16-30 (“The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the poor; he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound.”) Write out Jesus’ explicit mission statement. Contrast that with your church’s. Are there any things you would like to change?
  4. Brainstorm a couple of ways you’d like to stay connected with the broader, global church, both current and historic. Study the lives of saints from different Christian traditions, listen to music from different denominations, or immerse yourself in the artistic traditions of various branches of the Christian church. Perhaps you could explore the Book of Common Prayer in your personal prayer life, or explore other liturgies such as Every Moment Holy or A Booklet of Uncommon Prayer.

Tomorrow, we’ll explore how wisdom is found in nature and beauty. Before you close this screen, thank God for any wisdom you’ve received from the church.

Wisdom Pyramid

©Brett McCracken

***********

My previous posts on ESA:

  • Heroes or Neighbors? –  “So what does this have to do with refugees?” I asked my kids at breakfast. “I don’t know. Maybe the naked part?” my son offered. “He’s naked? That’s what ‘stripped him…”
  • Sign of the Times – “I think I’ve changed my mind. I don’t think we should do this.” I bit my lip and put my hands in my pockets. “Don’t be nervous. Be proud. This is…”
  • 2018: Building Your Wisdom Pyramid – “I’m not thinking of what my mind and soul need—I’m thinking of what feels good. But instead of dismissing this pyramid as being too aspirational, let’s wrestle…”

©Aimee Fritz & Family Compassion Focus, 2018.

Building Your Wisdom Pyramid – Part 1

Published by

I originally wrote this for the wonderful change agents at Evangelicals for Social Action to kick off the new year in January, 2018. Because I’m still working to flip my pyramid many months later at the beginning of the new school year, I’m posting it here and linking back to the originals. Current events will always require rigorous thought, reflection, and action. Please join me in the struggle to find true wisdom.

***********

Author Brett McCracken posed a question on his blog, asking his readers “to think about what sorts of ‘knowledge groups,’ and in what proportion, feed a healthy life of true wisdom and true joy.” Brett summarized it like this:

“There is little to argue with here, as Christians. We know we need the Bible, Church, Nature & Beauty, and Books to grow in wisdom, knowledge and joy. And we can acquiesce that more of us are finding valuable information on the internet and through our friends on social media.”

Most of us have the “pyramid” that Brett proposed upside-down. When I’m in the carpool line or drifting off to sleep I often have my phone in my hand, not my Bible. I relegate nature and beauty to infrequent field trips to the woods or the art museum. I’m not thinking of what my mind and soul need—I’m thinking of what feels good.

But instead of dismissing this pyramid as being too aspirational, let’s wrestle with it, and think about some hard questions and potential next steps for each level.

wisdom pyramid

©Brett McCracken

Day One

The Bible: “Our Daily Bread”

While the phrase “Daily Bread” has been used for hundreds of years to describe the Bible, perhaps in 2018 our Whole 30 friends out there might prefer to call it our daily sweet potato. Bread is a rich Biblical metaphor, often referring to God’s provision for God’s people. When Moses described how God would continue to guide and lead his people into the promised land, he reminds them, “People do not live by bread alone; rather, we live by every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord” (Deuteronomy 8:3). Later, when Jesus taught his disciples how to pray, he included the phrase “give us this day our daily bread” (Matthew 6:11), reminding us to ask God for what we need every day.

God provides for more than just our physical needs, he provides for our spiritual needs in the nourishment of lasting wisdom in the Bible. It’s supposed to fill us up, strengthen us, and give us energy, but when I’m feeling low I admit I sometimes choose a quick “sugar rush” of likes on Instagram over a more nourishing meditation on Scripture.

Questions:

  1. How often do you read the Bible? Do you spend more time reading the Bible each week than you spend in church, online, or in nature? Why or why not? How could you increase your time spent in the Bible this week?
  2. Do you consider the Bible your primary, foundational source of wisdom?
  3. What are your primary means to interpret, understand, and apply what you read in the Bible?
  4. Does the Bible satisfy you, give you energy and insight for what lies ahead? If not, what satisfies you more? How do you feel about this?

Next Steps:

  1. If your phone is always with you, put the Bible on your phone. Apps like YouVersion, NeuBible, and Logos offer several translations, tools, and reading plans. You can also set up emails and notifications to help keep you on track.
  2. If the Bible feels stale, detached, or dated, try searching key words or topics on Bible apps and websites to find new passages relevant to your daily life. Sites like Bible Gateway make it easy to search for words like justice, mercy, immigrant/alien/refugee, orphan, king/ruler, earth/creation.
  3. Re-visit the prophets, like Isaiah, Micah, and Amos. These writers have a lot to say about social justice that feels especially relevant today.
  4. For a fresh perspective, go beyond just reading a different translation. Ask other people what they are reading and how they read the Bible—ask your pastor, ask people living in other cultures or countries, ask people of demographics other than your own. Ask what verses resonate with their experiences; ask what’s challenging them or if they have specific Bible study recommendations. (Bonus point: By posing this question online, you could also redeem some of your social media time.)
  5. One particularly rich way to interact with Scripture is through the practice of Lectio Divina. After finding a short passage in the Bible, set a timer for 15 minutes. Slowly read the passage or verse through 3-5 times, both silently and out loud. Use all five of your senses to imagine what the story looks, sounds, smells, tastes, and feels like. Put yourself in the place of every character in the story—what do they look like, how do they feel, what is their context and motivation? After several minutes in silence, write down any new understandings about that verse. You may even feel nudged to take specific action.

Tomorrow, we’ll continue to engage with the wisdom pyramid, focusing on the church. Until then, how will you chew your Daily Bread today?

Wisdom Pyramid

©Brett McCracken

***********

My previous posts on ESA:

  • Heroes or Neighbors? –  “So what does this have to do with refugees?” I asked my kids at breakfast. “I don’t know. Maybe the naked part?” my son offered. “He’s naked? That’s what ‘stripped him…”
  • Sign of the Times – “I think I’ve changed my mind. I don’t think we should do this.” I bit my lip and put my hands in my pockets. “Don’t be nervous. Be proud. This is…”

©Aimee Fritz & Family Compassion Focus, 2018.

The Year of Small Things – Book Review

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[A Review of The Year of Small Things: Radical Faith for the Rest of Us by Sarah Arthur and Erin F. Basinger for The Cresset]
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Suburban life is filled with bake sales, craft sales, and car washes for good causes. Goodwill donations, GoFundMe campaigns, and volunteer work are all attempts to make the world a better place. But most suburbanites don’t have to think too much about poverty and injustice. When one’s neighborhood, health care, and local schools are basically clean and safe, practicing compassion could almost be a hobby, a temporary interest that swells at Christmas and at times of global tragedy.

Nonetheless, a growing number of people are choosing to reject that comfortable suburban culture and its relentless consumption. Instead, they are “turning…away from the false promises of the American Dream and toward Jesus.” In The Year of Small Things: Radical Faith for the Rest of Us, authors Sarah Arthur and Erin Wasinger share their hunger for simplicity, reconciliation, hospitality, contemplation, and Jesus.

One rainy night after dinner, Arthur and Wasinger were discussing their shared admiration for Shane Claiborne (The Irresistible Revolution) and Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove (The Awakening of Hope), chief spokespersons of the new monastic movement. Arthur and Wasinger wondered aloud how they might translate that countercultural way of life into their suburban contexts, and The Year of Small Thingsproject began.

New monasticism is rooted in scripture, especially passages like Acts 2 and Matthew 18. It attempts to answer that old rubber bracelet question: “What Would Jesus Do?” Jesus obviously identified with the poor. He obviously wasn’t a racist. He obviously loved strangers, lived in community, and lived a contemplative life.

In 2005 Cascade Books published School(s) for Conversion: Twelve Marks of New Monasticism, a book edited by the Rutba House, an intentional community founded by Wilson-Hartgrove and his wife, Leah, in Durham, North Carolina. The twelve marks include:

  1. Relocation to the abandoned places of Empire.
  2. Sharing economic resources with fellow community members and the needy among us.
  3. Hospitality to the stranger.
  4. Lament for racial divisions within the church and our communities combined with active pursuit of just reconciliation.
  5. Humble submission to Christ’s body, the church.
  6. Intentional formation in the way of Christ and the rule of the community along the lines of the old novitiate.
  7. Nurturing common life among members of intentional community.
  8. Support for celibate singles alongside monogamous married couples and their children.
  9. Geographic proximity to community members who share a common rule of life.
  10. Care for the plot of God’s earth given to us along with support of our local economies.
  11. Peacemaking in the midst of violence and conflict resolution in communities along the lines of Matthew 18.
  12. Commitment to a disciplined, contemplative life.

These are radical marks that require voluntary poverty and vulnerability on the one hand and a renunciation of the stereotypical American Dream on the other. It’s one thing to give money, run 5Ks for charity, and go on mission trips. It’s something else to embrace messy, unpredictable relationships and move into neighborhoods with abandoned houses, struggling schools, and crumbling infrastructure.

Wasinger and Arthur formed a simple, intriguing plan to embrace this kind of shared, radical faith, and it came with a catchy tagline: “One city, one church, one year. Two families. Twelve small radical changes.” Their goal:

[please continue reading at The Cresset]

 

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More book reviews:

©Aimee Fritz & Family Compassion Focus, 2018.

Re:new – 100 Extraordinary Women

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I didn’t used to think about refugees.

I often heard about the Israelites being homeless growing up –  Jacob’s hungry family driven to find food in in Egypt, generations of Hebrews enslaved in Egypt, Hebrews wandering in the wilderness, Israel being conquered and taken captive. Such intense longing for home. Such dependence on community, ingenuity, resilience, and faith. Such emotional, physical, spiritual, and relational struggle.

About 13 years ago I started paying attention to what World Relief was doing in my community in Wheaton, Illinois. I learned that refugees from all over the world, after extreme, thorough, lengthy vetting, were placed in our area by the United Nations. They had endured unspeakable horrors and lost everything, and now they were walking down my snowy sidewalks in robes and gowns trying to start all over again. World Relief helped them.

I soon heard about a new organization called Re:new. A few of my talented sewing friends were teaching resettled refugee women how to sew, using simple patterns and donated fabrics. I went to a Christmas sale and blew my budget on messenger bags, book bags, little dresses, and little flared pants for my girls. I got compliments on everything, every where I went and I said proudly, “It’s from Re:new! You need to go there!”

I started learning more about the histories of the women crafting the bags, table runners, and pencil cases I bought. I started learning about their future hopes. It broke and re-set my heart.

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©Re:new – Shatha – Artisan

When we moved to Georgia a couple years ago, we fell in love with what I refer to as a cousin of Re:new, called Refuge Coffee Co.. We continue to be changed by the generous, humble hearts of the resettled refugees we meet.

Now I think about refugees everyday.

That includes the women and vision of Re:new! When I heard about their 100 Extraordinary Women campaign, and their goals for the next 5 years, I was eager to share it all with our Family Compassion Focus crew. Holly Setran, a founding board member of Re:new, gave me the full story. Please read on, learn all about it, and donate!

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What is Re:new? 

Re:new is a non-profit social enterprise that trains refugee women to sew, and then employs them to create artisan handbags and accessories from repurposed textiles.

Re:new was founded in 2009 by Rebecca Sandberg. We rented a tiny room in one of the Wheaton College properties, and started teaching mostly Somali women to sew. It was so crowded that we had to do our cutting on the floor in the hallway and often did not have enough seats for everyone. One day a woman came and there wasn’t a machine for her to sew on, but she asked, “Can I please just stay and drink some tea. I don’t want to go home and be lonely.”

We gradually moved to bigger and bigger spaces, and moved to our current storefront in downtown Glen Ellyn the Fall of 2015. We have recently re-worded our mission statement and it is stated:

Guided by our faith in Jesus Christ, Re:new creates a space for refugee women to thrive.

I, Holly Setran, have been with Re:new since the very beginning and am a founding board member and currently volunteer as the sewing manager. As sewing manager, I am responsible for managing our new student sewing class – both refugee women and volunteers, and have the very best role at Re:new – telling women that they have completed their training and we want to hire them. I have had women cry, tell me it is the best day of their life, hug me, etc. For some, it is the first job they have had here in the States, sometimes ever.

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©Re:new – Holly Setran, Sewing Manager, Founding Board Member

I also have 4 kids: Parker is 21 and a junior at Biola University, Anna Joy is 19 and a freshman at Wheaton College, Owen is a junior in high school, and Emily is in 8th grade. I am married to David, a professor of Christian Formation and Ministry at Wheaton College.

Another way Re:new has grown – we are now offering an English conversation class for our artisans and a weekly ESL class that is open to the community.

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©Re:new – Kamila – Artisan

Can you remind us what a refugee is? Where do they come from? How do they end up in Glen Ellyn, Illinois?

A refugee is someone forced to flee their home due to war, violence, political unrest, religious or ethnic persecution, or natural disaster. Over the years our refugee women have come from Somalia, Nepal, Burma, Iraq, Iran, Turkey, North Korea, Afghanistan, and Pakistan. They are resettled here by the UN council for refugees with World Relief, who has an office in Dupage county, as their stateside resettlement agency. They do not get to choose where they are resettled, but are assigned a city before they come.

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©Re:new – Fatma – Studio Manager

Re:new isn’t just about job-training, skill-building, and community – it’s about relationships. How does Re:new foster and create relationships with its artisans?

The friendships women have can be powerful and transforming. Many women come to Re:new very lonely and alienated. At Re:new, they meet other women who have lost homes, family, lived through violence, are struggling to make a life here – we all know how powerful it can be to have someone walk alongside us who has a shared experience with us.

I am amazed at how quickly our artisans take a new hire under their wing – teaching her, loving on her. They throw each other birthday parties, baby showers, and are always trying to marry off any single women, whether artisan, volunteer, or staff. It is like a big family. We also have the opportunity to help women work through differences in culture and personality. We have daily lunches that are pot lucks, with volunteers, staff, and artisans eating together.

There is a lot of laughter that happens around that table, and it is a joy to see friendships blossom between refugees and suburban women, as well as friendships between artisans. Re:new is like the old fashioned quilting bee – it’s a bunch of women getting together and creating something beautiful, while chatting about their husbands, kids, families, sharing hopes, dreams, etc. It is one of my favorite places to be.

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©Re:new – Carry The Story

How have your artisans changed Re:new? How have they changed you?

Our refugee artisans have shaped what Re:new is today. They have input into what products we make, help design our products, and have great ideas for how we can do things better. Sometimes we change the structure to create new positions when we see that one of our artisans is excelling and deserves a promotion or new responsibilities.

As far as changing me – these women have had a profound impact on my life. Just a few things I have learned:

  • to be grateful. I am amazed at how, in the face of so much loss, trauma, and sorrow they have experienced in their lives, the prevalent attitude is gratefulness at the new opportunities they and their children have in this country. They are not complainers. They are hard workers. They are resilient. Often I walk into Re:new feeling sorry for myself for some ridiculous first-world reason, and then I am humbled by these amazing women and their resiliency. My problems quickly pale in comparison to their stories and how they choose to look for the good in the face of loss.
  • all women are basically the same –irregardless of culture, religion, socio-economic status. We all need other women, need community, and deeply and passionately love our families and want our children to thrive. Our common desires, hopes and dreams bond us together.
  • From my Christian refugee friends, I’ve learned that Jesus is worthy. In the words of Helen Roseveare, who suffered greatly for the Kingdom and asked herself, and God, if it was worth it, and God told her she was asking the wrong question. What we should ask is, “Is Jesus Worthy?” For my refugee friends who had to flee because of their faith in Jesus, they would all say yes.
    • One time, a woman told me story of how men stormed their church, lined up the parishoners, and made everyone watch as they killed all the young boys and even slit the throat of a 6 month old. I wept as she described the scene, and I said to her, “You have suffered so much for the sake of Jesus,” to which she replied, “but He suffered so much for us, how can we not also suffer for him?”
    • And another friend, hunted down and on the run for sharing the Gospel, wept as she shared her fear for her family back in her home country, who continue to preach the Gospel in spite of certain persecution. Her father tells her, “I am ready to die. Do not worry. I have to keep preaching.” Wow – talk about convicting.
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©Re:new – Foldover Clutch – $42.95 (available online)

What are some of your favorite Re:new “success stories.” 

There have been business successes – 3 women have gone on to start their own businesses. One a jewelry business, one a floral business, and one her own sewing business. I would have never imagined any of these women doing this when they first came to Re:new. One of these women was so quiet, withdrawn, and sad when she came to Re:new. She has gone on to return to school, win awards, and is running a successful business doing what she loves.

Another type of success is the joy and fulfillment I see in the lives of women who come to work at Re:new. God created us all for meaningful work, and I have seen the healing power that creating things of beauty brings. I’m not sure how it happens, but as women take bits of fabric (unwanted fabric* at that) and leather, and craft it into a thing of beauty, something happens. I think it is a reflection of the image of God in us all. God created everything and said, “it is good”. When we create, we are reflecting His image, and as such, experience the satisfaction He expressed when viewing His creation.

One of our women, Guylnora, used to work at another job besides Re:new. Her son made her quit her other job because he told her, “Mom, you are SO happy when you come home from work at Re:new, and so unhappy when you come home from your other job (a factory job). Just work at Re:new.”

*most of our fabric comes from design houses, designers, and furniture stores. We have 2 volunteers who go around picking up very nice unwanted fabric from designers that would otherwise end up in a landfill. So each bag is unique and is made from beautiful fabric that would end up in the dumpster. One time we got some fabric that had the tags on it and it said $200 a yard!

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©Re:new

How do you see Re:new growing in the next 1-5 years?

We would love to grow our online presence and sales. The more we sell, the more our women can work, and the more women we can hire. We would also like to grow our monthly donor base. Monthly, regular donors will put us well on our way to sustainability and will free us up from having to spend so much time doing fundraising and focus more on our artisans.

We also have big dreams of one day being able to provide child care (a huge barrier to women being able to work at Re:new), scholarships for college for our artisans and/or their kids, trauma counseling, and more. In the short term, our goal is to hire 4 new artisans in the next year. That is what this 100 Extraordinary Women campaign is focused on – being able to hire 4 new women.

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©Re:new – Komila, Fatma, Gyulnara

What is the 100 Extraordinary Women campaign?

100 Extraordinary Women is a for-profit organization that partners with non-profits to help them raise money. They found out about Re:new, and were so excited about what we were doing, that they approached us and offered to partner with us and waive their consulting fees! 100EW seeks to help women connect with causes in their community. Their goal is to recruit 100 women to give $1,000 each to further the mission of Re:new. This may sound like a lot, but they break it down into very easy giving levels. No one is going to miss $17.48 a month! Here are the different giving levels:

  • $17.48 a month for 5 years. This is the cost of one specialty coffee beverage a week!
  • $21.85 a month for 4 years
  • $29.14 a month for 3 years
  • $43.71 a month for 2 years
  • $87.42 a month for 1 year

You can find out more and join the campaign by visiting www.100extraordinarywomen.com.

If you prefer to donate through your bank account vs. credit card, you can do so through our website at: www.renewproject.org. You can sign up for a one time gift or to be a monthly donor by joining “Friends of Re:new”. Money given through our website can be counted as part of our 100EW campaign, if $1,000 is given or pledged through Friends of Re:new over the next few years.

There is also a local foundation (they prefer to remain anonymous) that has expressed interest in matching a portion of the money raised through this campaign! We are still working out the details with them, but have high hopes that they will match a good portion of the funds we raise.

Also, we have 2 artisans who have asked to donate 2 hours a week of their pay to Re:new. They love Re:new and want to give back to help others. Each of their donations will amount to $1,000 in a little over a year. Humbling when you consider how little they have. Guylnara, when asked why she wanted to donate, said, “people helped me when I first came to this country and now I want to help others.”

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©Re:new – Song Wallet – $39.95 (available online)

How can we join in the good work you are doing? How could children or families participate? 

Creative Giving:

  • Book clubs, small groups, carpool groups, neighborhoods could etc pool their money together to join this 100EW campaign.
  • My daughter and her friends organized a neighborhood garage sale and bake sale to raise money for Re:new. At the garage sale we had a video going about Re:new and had brochures. They solicited stuff for the garage sale from family friends and raised over $1,000.
  • Another time kids asked people ponsor them as they ran around a track as many times as they could. There are lots of fun ways kids can raise money.
  • We have several partner churches but would love to expand that to include even more. Most of our volunteers come from local churches, and we would like to grow that.

Other ways of giving:

  • Share about us and promote us on your personal social media. Spread the word. (media handles below)
  • Buy Re:new products and show them off
  • Volunteer to help as a studio assistant – ironing, cutting, organizing fabric.
  • Volunteer to be a store associate – fulfill your dreams of working retail!
  • Tell your church about Re:new – we are always looking to partner with local churches
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©Re:new – Beth Johnson – Communications Manager

Where can we follow you on social media?

 

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©Re:new – Ruthie Seager – Production Director

What books and resources would you recommend for those of us wanting to learn how to create refuge in our communities? 

I love this so much! Thank you, Holly, for helping us learn more about the beauty and community happening at Re:new. I’m thrilled to know about it and be a part of it.

Friends, please consider a year-end gift to Re:new ($15k match!), or becoming one of the 100 Extraordinary Women, or shopping online for bags, wristlets, and accessories for your holiday gift-giving!

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©Aimee Fritz & Family Compassion Focus, 2017.

All My Favorite People are Broken – Kintsukuroi Revisited

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We snuck out to the back porch ready to tell each other secrets in the swampy Georgia heat.

Sitting under the whirring fan, wine in hand, feet up, and heads laid back, we started our confessions.

She broke her daughter’s spirit.

I broke my son’s confidence.

Her marriage was cracking where it used to be strong.

My marriage was chipped and sometimes it hurt to pick it up to look at it.

Her church broke her heart.

My church broke mine.

My old soulmate unfriended me.

Her colleagues were lying.

So much brokenness. Like someone knocked over a china cabinet right there in front of us. Shattered plates, chipped cups, cracked bowls. We were broken. Our most treasured relationships were broken. We sighed.

I remembered Kintsukuroi.

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I wrote about it two years ago, and it remains one of my most popular posts about compassion, forgiveness, and parenting (please read that here and come back). Kintsukuroi:

“Kintsugi (Japanese: “golden repair”) is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum….As a philosophy it treats breakage and repair as a part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise.” (wikipedia)

But it’s one thing to learn about Kintsukuroi, it’s another thing to accept it.

I still don’t want to be broken. But I am.

I still don’t want to break anyone. But I do.

I want to be the mom waiting in the kitchen with a smile, warm cookies, and a big jug of healing glue when my kids come home shattered by peers, teachers, their own choices, or physical pain. But sometimes I make my child cry over spilled milk.

I want to be the friend who answers phone calls and texts with warmth, wit, and wisdom when someone feels rejected, confused, and indignant. But sometimes I try to fix my friends with too many words, too many tips.

I want to be the wife who beckons my husband to bed with soft tenderness and joy in a world feels incessantly sharp and cruel. But sometimes I ruin date night, or just regular TV night, with my complaints, selfishness, and expectations.

Instead of being the healer, sometimes I’m the wounder.

I’m not the healer. I’m not the vastly creative Artist sprinkling gold and grace over the deep cracks in the hearts of people I love. The Kintsukuroi Artist is God. He sees us, hears us, sings over us, and heals us. That’s our hope.

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I wiped the sweat off my neck and took another sip of wine. There’s lots of broken dishes between me and my friend. Lots of gold gleaming in the cracks. I see where she is letting the Artist pour the gold in her heart and home. I see her shining. I let her see where I haven’t let the Artist work yet, but hope to. I wonder how soon it will be before I’m more golden repair than original pottery? I wonder if that’s the goal?

She and I have chosen each other because we don’t hide the broken dishes. We know that’s really all we have with which to serve each other. We nudge each other to remember that it’s not up to us to fix all this. We point each other to God and his grace.

Then the gold pours in.

* * * *

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©Lakeside Pottery

How to begin to welcome Kinstukuroi in relationships:

  1. Openness: Things aren’t going well with you and the person you care about. Look at the cracks and chips in their hearts. Did you do that with your expectations, words, tone, reactions, or absence? Encourage them to tell you how they feel and listen closely. Perhaps pray: “God, make me a safe place for the people I love to share their real thoughts and feelings about hard things.”

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” – Psalm 34:18

  1. Acceptance: Surrender your broken, cracked relating to God. You will never be perfect. You are going to wound your spouse, parent, kids, and friends, even though you are trying your very best. Perhaps pray: “God, I’m a broken person loving broken people. I invite you to fill in all the gaps, because there are many.”

“I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out.” – Romans 7:18 

  1. Confession: When you snap, shame, and ignore the people you love, be quick to recognize it. You smashed that teacup. It was wrong. You sinned against the people God entrusted to you. Go quickly and admit you’re wrong, out loud and face to face without qualifications. Perhaps pray: “God, I confess I am short-tempered/ distracted/ demanding/ __. I’m sorry I hurt the people you love.”

“My sacrifice, O God, is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart you, God, will not despise.” – Psalm 51:17

  1. Forgiveness: Grant it generously. Receive it deeply. When your friend/ spouse/ child/ parent/ sibling is sassy, deceptive, lazy, and wrong, and then apologizes, forgive them. Look them in the eyes and say, “I forgive you. Would you like a fresh start?”

When you apologize to someone you love, and they forgive you, receive that fresh start. Most importantly, receive the Lord’s powerful, unceasing forgiveness. Watch those cracks be filled with gold. Perhaps pray: “God, thank you for your constant mercy and grace. I need your forgiveness. I humbly receive it.”

“Be even-tempered, content with second place, quick to forgive an offense. Forgive as quickly and completely as the Master forgave you.” – Colossians 3:13

* * * *

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“the piece is more beautiful for having been broken”

“All My Favorite People are Broken” is a beautiful song by Over the Rhine. You can hear the song and see the lyrics of this Kintsukuroi song here.

All my favorite people are broken
Believe me
My heart should know

Some prayers are better left unspoken
I just wanna hold you
And let the rest go

All my friends are part saint and part sinner
We lean on each other
Try to rise above

We’re not afraid to admit we’re all still beginners
We’re all late bloomers
When it comes to love

All my favorite people are broken
Believe me
My heart should know

Orphaned believers, skeptical dreamers
Step forward
You can stay right here
You don’t have to go

Is each wound you’ve received
Just a burdensome gift?
It gets so hard to lift
Yourself up off the ground

But the poet says, We must praise the mutilated world
We’re all workin’ the graveyard shift
You might as well sing along

All my favorite people are broken
Believe me
My heart should know

(As for) your tender heart—
This world’s gonna rip it wide open
It ain’t gonna be pretty
But you’re not alone

‘Cause all my favorite people are broken
Believe me
My heart should know

Orphaned believers, skeptical dreamers
You’re welcome
Yeah, you’re safe right here
You don’t have to go

‘Cause all my favorite people are broken
Believe me
My heart should know

©Over the Rhine, The Long Surrender

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©K. Coffret

 

©Aimee Fritz & Family Compassion Focus, 2017.

Suck it In, Suck it Up

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“Suck your belly in and stand up straight.”

“Why, Mom?”

“Because that’s how you put on dresses. Come on. Stand taller.”

Once she was all zipped up I stood behind her and looked in the dressing room mirror. She was looking straight into my eyes, with the betrayal and wounding of someone who was just slapped in the face. I paused, but then chalked up her sourness to tween melodrama.

I looked her up and down in the form-fitting black dress.

“Wow. You look beautiful, honey! Like a woman!”

She shrugged.

“What? You don’t want it? You look fantastic!”

“I don’t know, Mom! Okay? I don’t know what I like, or what I’m supposed to like, or what I’m supposed to look like. Just get the dress if you think that’s what I’m supposed to get. I don’t care. Can we be done?”

She pulled her school uniform back on and left the dressing room. I held the black dress up over my tired outfit and turned side-to-side. I wished my body was as good as hers.

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photo by Gemma Evans

Brushing my teeth that night it hit me how gross that whole scene was: I told my 12 year old to suck it in. I implied she better get used to it. I maybe bought her a dress too old for her. I envied the body of a 12 year old. I envied my daughter’s body.

So wrong in so many ways.

But that’s life, right? You become a woman, you better dress and stress like a woman. It’s inevitable. Thoughts of my girl in sparkly pink t-shirts, muddy playground pants, and gap-toothed smiles whisked by. Those were sweet days. But they were over. It was time for her to get in the game. I spit out my toothpaste.

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photo by Annie Spratt

Months later I got an advanced copy of Compared to Who? A Proven Path to Improve Your Body Image I knew exactly what it would say:

  1. God loves you.
  2. God created you.
  3. Remember this and you’ll always feel beautiful, never think of food in an unhealthy way, always know how to dress, love being a woman, dating will be easy, marriage will come, and sex will be wonderful.
  4. If you struggle with any of those things it’s because you don’t have enough faith to believe that God is who He says is.

Every Christian book on women, health, and body image says these same things. Some include recipes, workout plans, BMI charts. Lots talk about princesses. All talk about our bodies being a temple of the Holy Spirit, and how diligent we should be in keeping God’s house neat and tidy. And pretty.

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photo by Jared Sluyter

So I opened the book up and wasn’t surprised: Page one of the Introduction: already talking about weight loss. Page one of Chapter One: already talking about cellulite. Yep. No surprises here.

But I kept reading, because receiving an advanced copy is like a book report assignment —  I needed to finish it.

Creekmore uses all of Part 1 to say that she gets it. She’s not going to sugar coat it: we all check each other out, we all wish we looked better, we all try everything at some point to feel better about ourselves, we are all tired of not looking and feeling better. I nodded along.

Then Part 2 came, the “Proven Path to Improve Your Body Image” section. If she mentioned praying before workouts or trips to the grocery store, I was going to put the book down with a resentful huff. But instead, because she’s built a lot of trust to say she totally gets us, she goes where Christian-Lady-Body-Health-Diet people don’t go:

She talks about sin.

But not about “fatness” or “being out of shape” or “unhealthiness” as a sin.

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photo by Neslihan Gunaydin

She specifically talks about the sin of idolatry, which is a pretty dusty, old school, King James topic. That makes us think of a golden thing Indiana Jones might steal, snippets of the 10 Commandments, or world religions far away where they pray to a lot of little gods.

Creekmore defines idolatry as when you want something more than you want Jesus. That doesn’t feel like a bomb drop to me, because I hear stuff like that all the time. But read and consider her questions:

  • What can’t I live without?
  • What makes me crazy?
  • What do I think about when I’m alone and all is quiet?
  • What does my heart really, really long for?
  • Who am I following other than Jesus?
  • Whose opinion matters most to me? (p. 130)

I can answer all these questions with A+ Sunday School answers, but I have a strong, real, honest, undercurrent of less holy answers. I want to be pretty, comfortable, healthy, happy, well-liked and successful. Don’t we all? Isn’t that normal?

“Do you envy that person’s size, shape, look, or life? Then, my friend, call it a sin and realize that it needs to be brought to the light and confessed.” (p. 132)

Creekmore pushes further later saying the we wouldn’t leave Playboy magazines around the house if we thought it would make our husband’s fall into porn, lust, and crazy thinking. Makes me wonder if maybe I shouldn’t read magazines and watch certain TV shows with women that make me hate myself in comparison, not want to be naked with my husband, or not go to the pool with my kids the next day?

“How many times a day do you look at images of other women that trigger thoughts for you that are neither healthy or holy?” (p. 164)

Oh my gosh. Maybe 50? 100? I’ve gotten good at admitting and confessing when I’m envying other women’s purses and other families’ luxury vacations, but I don’t apply that practice to how I feel when I close the very tame Athleta and Soma bathing suit catalogs.

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photo by Annie Spratt

But aren’t I supposed to care about my body? Isn’t it wise to be healthy and strong? Can’t I do whatever I want with food and exercise? Where is the line? Creekmore addresses the tension:

“The trickiest part of battling beauty and body image idolatry? Seeking a better physique may actually be a good thing. It may feel like you aren’t doing anything wrong. For example, losing weight may be exactly what you need to get healthier, live longer, or fight disease. Similarly, exercising can be really good for you and have a postive effect on your overall well-being. But when diet, exercise, or any other avenue we pursue to change our outward appearace becomes of the utmost importance, we are trapped in worldliness, and it shifts to idolatry.” (p. 113)

Again, those old school words of “worldliness” and “idolatry” feel as stiff and irrelevant today as a starched high-collared prairie dress. I could play dumb, but I know what Creekmore is talking about. I know when I’m running to look better in a date night tight dress vs. running to be healthy. I know when I walk into a restaurant and hope to be looked at, maybe even envied. I know when I hope my gluten- and dairy-free life will also make me lose weight.

But we pray about it, so that makes it okay, right? We might think we’ve got our body image and faith under control, because we’re praying for wisdom about what to eat, self-control when we shouldn’t eat, discipline to exercise, perseverance to be a healthy example – but that just might be asking God “to help me serve my idol of beauty so I could finally be happy and free.” Instead of praying “help me apply your gospel to my weight and my body image.” (p. 112)

If we admit that we idolize beauty, then everything can change.

That’s the first of the five steps in Creekmore’s proven path to improve your body image. I need to admit I idolize beauty. That almost feels impossible. That’s a whole lifestyle change, a completely different way to look at myself, all other women, and how I fit in the world.

That’s major. Could it be possible?

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photo by Annie Spratt

Creekmore gives practical action items including the right kind of confession and repentance and the need for honest community, along with nowhere-to-run Bible study and heart questions at the end of each chapter.

I’m going to go back through Compared to Who? and write some notes in my journal. There were a few verses I thought of in new ways, and some key questions I want to ask when I buy clothes and look at pictures of myself. I think I’m going to write out my confession of beauty idolatry and read it aloud to my best friend. I’ve got some soul searching and praying to do. I think I want this freedom.

Not just for me. But for my daughter, too.

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Photo by Noom Peerapong

Book-cover-for-iconTo purchase the book: Amazon

To learn more about the author: Compared to Who?

[Note: I received a copy of Compared to Who? from Leafwood Publishers in exchange for an honest review.]

Related Posts:  The Comparison Game, 6 Different Ways to Be Beautiful, Valentine’s Day Sucks

@Aimee Fritz & Family Compassion Focus, 2017.

I Want to Be Her

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I am one of the women who unexpectedly cried watching Wonder Woman opening weekend.

I fell asleep during every Avengers and X-Men movie for the past three years. I assumed this DC movie would have the same nap-triggering formula, but with Xena: Warrior Princess costumes.

Then the beautiful, strong, united, Amazon women of Themyscira descended on the beach to fight invading German soldiers, unafraid and victorious. I didn’t wince, cringe, or worry while they were fighting, because they weren’t victims or reactors. They expected to win and they did.

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©Warner Bros. Pictures

Maybe this is what men always feel like when they watch battle scenes, but for the first time I felt like I just won with them on that beach. Tears sprung into my eyes. What a proud, exhilariating moment!

A tiny flame ignited in my heart.

Later in the film, Diana Prince (Wonder Woman) climbs out of one of the trenches on World War I’s Western Front, determined to charge through No Man’s Land to liberate a village. She doesn’t look scared, make jokes, cross herself, or ask for help. She just goes. She heads directly into danger. She deflects bullets and machine gun fire with constant forward progress. She is certain she can and will win.

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©Warner Bros. Pictures

I cried again during that long fight scene — from the trench, all the way to the village, and the climax at the bell tower. Diana was strong, confident, powerful, graceful, effective, accurate, and victorious. She saved that village. She stopped evil that day.

I wanted to stand up, point at the screen, and say, “Did you see that?!”

The flame in my heart grew.

The tears came again in the final battle scene, when the stakes for her heart, her identity, and her purpose surprise and almost destroy her. Her resolve, conviction, love, and grief reflected all I’ve felt at my highest and lowest moments.

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©Warner Bros. Pictures

I never cried watching a fight scene before, though I’ve seen women fight valiantly on film. I loved Yu Shu Lien in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. Her wisdom, beauty, patience, and fighting skills unlocked a brand new pride and aspiration in my heart. I had a major crush on Trinity in The Matrix. I loved watching Sydney Bristow take control on Alias every week. I felt huge, victorious, in-your-face pride when Éowyn slayed the Nazgûl in Lord of the Rings. Katniss was clearly the protector over poor Peeta in the Hunger Games. My daughter carried a broomstick around to fight like Rey after The Force Awakens. But none of those characters and stories revealed the raw pride and longing I felt watching Wonder Woman.

 

This new movie turned me into a 6-year-old fangirl. In every scene I thought, “I want to BE her.” By the end of the movie I was convinced, “I AM her.” I strode out of that theater ready to take on all of society’s problems.

This tweet, which has been liked more than 301,000 times and re-tweeted 84,000 times (updated 6/26/17), sums up how I felt driving home from seeing Wonder Woman:

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A few hours after the movie I had enough squabbles in real life to know I AM NOT like Wonder Woman afterall. I haven’t been trained “five times harder than any warrior” my whole life. I wasn’t raised on an island of women, protected from intentionally and unintentionally demoralizing men. I’m often afraid and avoid danger. I don’t have good aim and I’m back in physical therapy for a pulled hamstring.

But then I thought of Diana Prince’s solo charge through No Man’s Land and got teary again. The flame still flickered and swelled with pride and longing. I WANT TO BE HER.

Like most women, I’ve learned to hide and hinder my power. As a smart girl I was often told that men are afraid of smart women, so I should “dial it back.” I learned how to lead colleagues and clients toward the outcomes I wanted by asking questions I already knew the answers to, nodding a lot, laughing at terrible jokes, and grinning silently through varying degrees of sexual harassment.

As an independent girl I learned that men like to feel needed. So I asked for help opening my locker, parallel parking, and reading a map, even though I could do that all myself.

My 13-year-old daughter asked, “Why do women get in trouble for wearing certain clothes? Why don’t men get in trouble for not controlling themselves just because of what a woman is wearing? I don’t get it.” I’m sad that one day I may have to tell her that she’ll get better service at the Genius Bar and the Auto Shop if she smiles a lot while wearing make up and tight jeans.

That doesn’t feel like charging toward the enemy through No Man’s Land, sword and shield in hand. That feels like muddy compromise and wary surrender. Trapped and small.

So my hunger persists: I WANT TO BE LIKE HER. I want the courage and confidence of a strong, well-trained woman in charge on the battlefield. I want to know who I am and what I’m made for. I desperately want this for my daughters. I want us all to fight hard and well, certain that our identity and training will bring victory.

But I’m not literally going to in battle, am I? I’m not literally going to kill anyone, am I? I don’t want to literally fight with my bare hands, do I?

This is the part where Christian women talk about how Deborah led the Israelites, Esther saved her people after winning a beauty contest, and Mary said yes to carrying the Son of God inside her body. There’s a certain place for women, with few exceptions.

This is where Bible teachers talk about how “our battle is not against flesh and blood” and how we need to put on “the full armor of God.” There’s a certain kind of fighting appropriate for women.

This is the part where sensitive women say, “everyone is fighting a hard battle” when we’re referring to the ravages of mental illness, poverty, domestic violence, divorce, or cancer. Because women know what it’s like to be fragile.

And that flame inside me grows bigger. I know all that. I believe all that. But still. I WANT TO BE LIKE HER.

I want to fight. I want to fight and win.

But how?

When I picture Wonder Woman, Jesus, and me sitting around a café table with my resumé and flaming heart, we keep coming back to Diana Prince’s movie line: “I will fight, for those who cannot fight for themselves.” So far we’ve come up with these ideas:

Maybe, with the history and training I have, I can walk into danger with bolder compassionate service? I could build deeper relationships with refugees with hard pasts and big needs, distribute clean needles on the streets, pursue downward mobility, and speak truth to power.

I could fight like that.

Maybe, with the experiences and expertise I’ve slowly earned, I can walk into danger with my words? I can research, write, and advocate through letters, blogs, articles, books, speeches, lessons, and sermons. I could take on evil and injustice with confidence, certainty, and courage.

I could fight like that.

Maybe that longing and pride I felt in my heart watching Wonder Woman fight is a gift from God? Maybe I could own my identity, past, and desires? Maybe I could help my friends, colleagues, and daughters identify their own longings and battles?

I could fight like that.

Maybe when my girls are my age and they flip through history books, web archives, and personal journals they will realize tears are rolling down their own cheeks. And they will pick up their swords and shields, and run toward danger, just like we trained them.

Lord, make us like Wonder Woman. We can fight like that.

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©Warner Bros. Pictures

A special thank you to Wonder Woman Director, Patty Jenkins –

Dear Patty Jenkins,

I saw Wonder Woman this weekend and loved it. Thank you for making a totally different movie for me and my daughters. Several differences stood out:

Thank you for not slowly panning up and down Gal Gadot’s body in way that invited devouring gazes.

Thank you for not including any rape or sexual assault.

Thank you for not making this heroine a former victim.

Thank you for not including lewd jokes about women, men, or sex.

Thank you for showing women working together, instead of competing against each other. 

Thank you for not denigrating men to artificially build up women.

Thank you for showing several examples of men respecting women.

Thank you for making me proud to be a woman in culture.

Thank you for giving my two daughters a quality night at the movies and a fun, powerful role model. 

We are so excited for the sequel!

Sincerely,  Aimee Fritz

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©Aimee Fritz & Family Compassion Focus, 2017.

Lying is Fun

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Everyone at the crowded table was laughing. My cousins could hardly breathe. Their friends were throwing their heads back and clapping. I was beaming, almost standing on my chair, gesturing wildly, telling them all about what happened when a squirrel snuck into my sleeping bag at summer camp.

It truly was a hilarious 20-minute story, fill of dialogue, descriptions, character development, suspense, plot twists, and a satisfying grand finale.

But it wasn’t true.

I had lived in fear of finding a squirrel in my sleeping bag at camp. I obsessed over it all week: imagining all the places he would accidentally bite me, how his fluffy tail would feel on my mud-caked legs, and how his chittering family members would cheer from the rafters. Would I scream and run, or freeze and slowly be nibbled to death? Would the pretty counselor come to my aid, or the mean one? What would my seven bunkmates do?

I still worried about a squirrel attack when I got home, ripping back my sheets at night before bed. Then very alert and awake in the dark, I imagined all best and worst case squirrel sleeping bag scenarios. In time, that fear morphed into an epic, outlandish tale, perfect for middle school bragging rights.

I was so in zone that night at my cousins’ with that story. I glowed in the cloud of laughter and approval. Until my cousin’s friend wiped her eyes and breathlessly asked, “Oh my gosh, is that story true?”

My heart raced, but I was committed. I took a sip of pop, laughed, and declared, “Oh yeah. It’s 100% true.”

The whole table laughed harder, satisfied.

Lying was fun.

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©unsplash

The June 2017 National Geographic cover story is ”Why We Lie: The science behind our complicated relationship with the truth.” When I pulled the magazine out of our mailbox, the first thing I thought of was my Squirrel in the Sleeping Bag story. Why did I lie that day? Why did it feel good? Why did I keep telling tall tales after that, for years?

Researcher Tim Levine states:

“We all lie, but not all lies are the same.

People lie and tell the truth to achieve a goal:

We lie if honesty won’t work.” (p.39)

What was my goal? And why did I think honesty wouldn’t work?

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©National Geographic, Dan Winters

Like every kid, I wanted as many people as possible to like me. That was my goal. Adults liked me because I was a good student, polite, and consistent. I had friends that liked me, but I always thought I needed more. Figuring out how to keep everyone liking me like work.

But taking a true story about my own life and adjusting it for laughs was so easy. Holding court at recess, a sleepover, or family dinner I easily changed words, tones, emotions, and endings of my stories based on the body language of those listening. It was absolutely my favorite thing to do.

“Lying is so easy compared to other ways of gaining power,” observes Sissela Bok, an ethicist at Harvard (p. 38).

Telling stories about homework and the dog wouldn’t work because they were boring. People would lose interest and focus on someone else. I needed their attention and approval. More than anything I wanted to hear, “Tell another story! You are hilarious! Your stories are the best!” That’s the power I wanted.

But when I was alone, I worried. What version of what story did I tell to which people? Who knew about when I was asked to sing “on broadway?” What about when I fell through the ice and was “almost paralyzed?” Was the shark on TV, a fin in the distance, or “right under my boogie board?”

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©Chris Lawton

In the National Geographic story writer Yudhiji Bhattacharjee highlights scandalous liars we all know: Richard Nixon, Bill Clinton, Lance Armstrong, Bernie Madoff, and PT Barnum. He included those who lie for a living: CIA agents, poker players, magicians, and art forgers. I looked at all their glossy pictures and wondered, could that have been me?

As a girl I sometimes wondered if I was becoming a con artist, like I saw on TV. I began to steal gum from the Jewel-Osco after reading the novel Pinballs because I wanted to practice shoplifting so I could take care of my sister if we suddenly became orphans. I read The Hiding Place and learned that in order to hide Jews in World War II you had to be a very good liar. Maybe lying was okay sometimes.

Living in a church-going home I knew the 10 Commandments and that lying was a sin. But I didn’t think my lying was really a sin. My stories were just embellishments, exaggerations. I wasn’t lying to get food for orphans or save lives, but I was making people happy. So, no big deal.

When I look at this chart, I see that most of my childhood lying was “to promote myself.” I never got any money from my stories, but it did bring me friendship and acceptance (15% of people lie for personal advantage), it did help me see myself as likable and fun (8% lie for self-impression), and I definitely made people laugh (5% lie for humor).

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©National Geographic, June 2017 (p. 39)

**If this is hard to read, I list the categories at the end of this post.

I was totally in denial about how often I lied to protect myself. I definitely didn’t want to get in trouble (22% of people lie to cover up a mistake or misdeed). I wanted to get away with teasing my sister and gossiping in the hall. I wanted the kid next to me to get in trouble for talking in class, not me. These protecting lies were efficient and effective for keeping me out of trouble, but after a while I started to not like myself, because I was being unkind. So I had to tell more stories, to get others smiling and laughing, so I could feel good again.

I told stories for a long time. Even after I chose to become a Christian and pursued a spiritual life. The stories I told God about myself when I was praying were unintended exaggerations, because I thought I was the worst sinner ever when I was 17. The stories I told my Christian friends were true, but the emotional intensity was magnified, because that showed how I really really felt in spite of the ordinary thing that happened.

I didn’t come to understand the concept of grace until my mid-twenties, and with that, my tall tales started shrinking. Somehow being loved just as I was, by my husband and God, filled those hungry places for approval. Sometimes when a night was really dragging I’d be tempted to spin a yarn, but it didn’t give me the thrill it once did. I confessed my exaggerations when I prayed, until the habit eventually lost its grip.

I started to wonder if people even believed my stories when I was younger. I admitted and apologized to some old friends for my amplified stories, but no one seemed to care, or be surprised. I think they just truly enjoyed being told good stories.

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©Dorota Dylka

The crazy adult world of bosses, commuting, landlords, and in-laws soon revealed that the truth is indeed stranger than fiction. The facts were entertaining enough and kept us all laughing.

Then I had children. There is nothing more gross, ridiculous, and absurd than parenting. I didn’t have to embellish anything. The poop really did stink that bad and really did explode onto all those surfaces. I really only slept two hours. My daughter really did keep sticking beads up her nose on purpose.

Before I had kids I wondered if my relatives and friends were just awful parents, because their kids lied all the time. I laughed at their big eyes, wagging heads, chubby pointing fingers, and other obvious tells. I heard about the fastballs they caught and the dragons they pet. That was cute. But now when my own children lie about hand-washing, homework, and contraband candy I want to pull my hair out.

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©Remi Skatulski

But Bhattacharjee states that all kids are liars, if they are smart.

He points out, “like learning to walk and talk, lying is something of a developmental milestone….a reassuring sign that their cognitive growth is on track” (p. 38).

Improving as a liar is also positive sign, Bhattacharjee explains: “What drives this increase in lying sophistication is the development of a child’s ability to put himself or herself in someone else’s shoes” (p. 42).  This is an interesting spin. One of my highest goals as a parent is to teach my children empathy and compassion. So maybe the next time my son lies in my face I can study the situation and leverage his sophisticated skills for future good instead of deception?

This is a hopeful spin on an addictive vice. It also helps me be gracious and forgiving to my childhood self. I feared for a long time that I was some sort of bad seed because lying came so easily for young, tall-tale-telling me. But I wasn’t malicious. I was just a normal kid with a smart, developing brain, looking for love and laughs. Maybe that ultimately helped me understand people? Maybe it helped me become a writer? Maybe God’s grace is redeeming all that impulsive imagination for good?

In celebration of this transformed understanding of my past I’m going to finally tell my kids “The Squirrel in the Sleeping Bag” story this weekend. I can’t wait.

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©Cristina Schek

1. What’s the biggest lie you ever told? Did you get away with it?

2. Using the National Geographic chart above (and below), what category of lying was it? Were you protecting or promoting yourself? Were you hurting or helping someone else?

3. What’s the craziest lie someone tried to tell you?

4. When are you tempted to lie now? When does it feel like being honest won’t help you reach your goal? How important is that goal to you this moment?

5. Do you need to ask a friend, parent, spouse, teacher, coach, partner, boss or employee to forgive you for lying to them?

6. Do you need to forgive someone for lying to you?

* * * *

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©National Geographic, Dan Winters

**Why We Lie Chart from ©National Geographic (from photo above)

  • To Protect Yourself:
    • 22% – Personal Transgression – cover up a mistake
    • 14% – Avoidance – escape or evade people
  • To Promote Yourself:
    • 16% – Economic Advantage – gain financial benefits
    • 15% – Personal Advantage – bring benefits beyond money
    • 8% – Self-Impression – Shape a positive image of ourselves
    • 5% – Humor – make people laugh
  • To Impact Others:
    • 5% – Altruistic – help people
    • 2% – Social or polite – uphold social roles or avoid rudeness
    • 4% – Malicious – hurt people
  • Unclear:
    • 2% – Pathological – ignore or disregard reality
    • 7% – Unknown – motives are unclear, even to ourselves.
  • Quiz from National Geographic about lying: online quiz
  • Article from June 2017 National Geographic: Why We Lie

Related Posts by Aimee Fritz:

©Aimee Fritz & Family Compassion Focus, 2017.

 

 

Ostinato

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“For I have known them all already, known them all: 

Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, 

I have measured out my life with coffee spoons; 

I know the voices dying with a dying fall 

Beneath the music from a farther room. 

               So how should I presume?”

– T.S. Eliot – The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

The stack of purple and blue pill organizers crushed me. Seven doors on seven organizers, each filled with different vitamins and prescriptions. Open the seven doors, drop in the tablets and capsules, close the doors, empty them in little bowls for each person at breakfast. Every day. Every week. Every month. Every year. Maybe someday we wouldn’t need to take pills.

Maybe someday would be different. But not today.

I tossed the clothes in the dryer, filled the dishwasher, looked for my wallet, yelled for the kids to get their shoes on, and loaded the car. Maybe someday the kids would empty the dishwasher without breaking anything. Maybe someday my youngest would tie her shoes.

Maybe someday would be different. But not today.

We pulled out of the driveway, squinted under the heavy sun, closed the garage door, went up the street, turned right, turned right at the manatee mailbox, went down the hill, over the lake, up the hill, all the way to the light, and turned left by the Target. Maybe someday we’d have somewhere else to go.

Maybe someday would be different. But not today.

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©Kevin Niu

A guy smiled on the radio, singing (again) that he Can’t Stop the Feeling. That song was always on the radio. I agreed with him. I couldn’t stop the feeling–that hazy despair, empty disappointment, and electric anxiety. That heaviness on my chest, invading my thoughts. Maybe someday there’d be a new song, and the feelings would stop.

Maybe someday would be different. But not today.

I changed the channel. And there actually was a new song — the Jaws theme. We all went silent and waited. The chase and crescendo. The wild strings. The climax. We laughed with relief.

The song was an example of ostinato in the middle of a radio interview with a music professor. He played and discussed the repeated rhythmic patterns of Ravel (Bolero*), Beethoven (Moonlight Sonata), Holst (Mars-Bringer of War), and Williams (Star Wars’ Imperial March). He said ostinato is a “stable foundation and launching point for change on top of it.” He taught that constant repetition is instinctual and unifying, builds suspense and energy, feeds our need for routine and dependability, creates a foundation, and sets the stage for a reveal.

I thought of the pill cases, laundry, cooking, cleaning, and the car route. The unanswered prayers I repeated everyday anyway. The constant repetition.

The song of my days was ostinato.

What foundation was I building? What was the reveal?

I thought of ostinato for months. In the middle of researching other writing projects I’d detour to find more examples of these musical patterns in Led Zeppelin (Black Dog), Donna Summer (Love to Love You Baby), and The Verve (Bittersweet Symphony). I read old articles about music and memory. I filled more pill cases, did more laundry, and tied more shoes.

“Repetitio mater studiorum est.” 

(Repetition is the mother of all learning)

Months later I wrote my pianist friends, asking what it felt like to play and teach ostinato with their dexterous fingers. They said students learn their craft with ostinato, like Bartok’s Mikrokosmos. As professional performers, they don’t question ostinato, or complain. They play the music they are given.

I wondered if my feelings were too much. The composer wrote my music and it was my job to play it. But I didn’t like this song. Was I disobedient? A despairing drama queen? A bad mother?

What foundation were we building? What was the reveal?

I wrote my opera friends and asked what they thought of ostinato, singing the same thing over and over with their mouths, lungs, and diaphragms. They said it’s satisfying to be part of the foundation of a complex song. It’s exciting to build to the climax, like in Orff’s Carmina Burana.

I didn’t think it was exciting to be scared or disappointed. The climax was usually horrible: the shark attack, the marching enemy, or the villain jumping out at the top of the stairs.

My friend gently disagreed. She said ostinato could sound scary and depressing when it was in a minor key. Didn’t I know ostinato could be in a major key, like Pachelbel’s Canon in D? The reveal can be beautiful: love, discovery, reunion, or celebration.

I didn’t know that.

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©Gabriele Diwald

“Hope is the thing with feathers  

That perches in the soul,  

And sings the tune without the words,  

And never stops at all”

– Emily Dickinson (254)

I bought more pill cases. The others were worn out from years of use. I laid the paper towels in front of me, ready to pour out all the pills for sorting. I opened all seven doors on all seven cases. Some vitamins and prescriptions were new. Some prescriptions were no longer needed. I cut pills in half. I made notes for refills and doctor calls.

The dishwasher chimed it was done. The dryer stopped tumbling. My daughter started cutting the peppers for dinner. My son started folding towels. My youngest untied her shoes at the back door.

I clicked all seven doors shut on the pill case: Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday. Click, click, click, click, click, click, click. Seven times. Forty-nine times. My ostinato.

My daughter laughed at my son’s joke. My youngest zipped up her kitty cat lunch box. I piled the pill cases in the bin and stared at them. Quietly I prayed a brand new prayer, a new song:

“Thank you, God, for all this.

For the vitamins, medicine, and doctors.

And three kids.

And this day.

And the next seven days.

Maybe someday will be different.

But that’s not today.

I guess You are the foundation?

And You are building something on it?

And You know the future, the big reveal?

I believe.

Help my unbelief.”

I put the heavy bin away, joined my kids in the kitchen, and started cooking dinner.

Again.

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©Brigitte Tohm

“Something, something’s coming good.

Something, something’s coming fine.

Something, something’s coming yours.

Something, something’s coming mine.

Maybe it’ll come on wings.

Maybe it’ll come on wheels.

Maybe if it touches you, you’ll find out how it feels.

Maybe it’ll come by day.

Maybe it’ll come by night.

Something, something’s coming right.”

– Harrod & Funck – Something

* * *

Your Ostinati:

1. What’s your repetitive pattern these days? Is it an honest slog through the essential and mundane? Is it an angry refrain in a tense and broken relationship? Is the unexpected trust in a season of gratefulness? Does it bring you stability or tension?

2. What do you think your ostinato is building toward? Certain death? A big epiphany? New love? Why do you think that? Do you think God has a hope and future for you?

3. Ostinato means “obstinate.” In fact, if you type “ostinato” into your phone or computer auto-correct will automatically change it to “obstinate.” Try it. Are you stubborn? Is God stubborn? Is the pattern of your days stubborn? What message do you keep hearing over and over and over again?

4. What key are you playing in? Is it a somber minor key? Is it snarky? Is it hauntingly beautiful? Is it hopeful? A consistent looking up? Do you like your song? If not, what would it take to change one note?

5. What is your favorite song? Does it reflect your current ostinato? Is it something you hope will feel authentic someday? Do you need a new theme song?

“Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.” – Matthew 11:28-30

*Note: All song titles are linked to iTunes audio files, click on them to hear what different ostinati sound like.

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©Christian Bisbo Johnsen

Related Posts:

©Aimee Fritz & Family Compassion Focus, 2017.

Buried Bulbs and Prayers

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[Published at (in)courage May 19, 2017]

When I saw the lumpy bags of daffodil bulbs at the store I was skeptical. The eager garden center employee hovered nearby, so I asked her, “Is it worth all the kneeling, getting dirty, and waiting? Are flowers really going to come? Is there any guarantee?”

She promised the bulbs would bloom. I bought four bags and rushed to pick up my kids from school.

Before she even got in the car, I could tell my daughter was angry, like she always was these days. She saw her classmates doubled over laughing on the school lawn as we drove by. She crossed her arms and set her jaw. When we got home she slammed the car door and followed her siblings into the house.

I stayed quiet in the driver’s seat. I knew she didn’t want to talk about it. She refused to pray or be prayed for. She despised my hugs. I sighed. I’d been praying for her for so long. Would it ever get better?

I remembered those daffodils in the back of the van.

I mixed black soil and bone meal with my bare hands in the big pots in front of the porch. Then I carefully laid the bulbs pointy side up in concentric circles. I covered them with more soil and patted it all down firmly with my whole palm, just like I patted my baby daughter’s back at bedtime over a decade ago.

Already kneeling, I suddenly prayed, “God, I believe these bulbs will bloom. I believe something beautiful will come. In this pot. And in my daughter’s heart. I bury my hopes for her here, right now, in this dirt. Only You can do this. I will wait.” I wiped off my palms in the grass and walked away.

Finish the story at (in)courage

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©Aimee Fritz & Family Compassion Focus, 2017.

Never Alone

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Several years ago my sister and I ran away to Florida. We were both reeling from unexpected heartbreaks – my infertility, her disbanded circle of friends. We felt lonely and untethered. We didn’t know what to say anymore. But we could be together.

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by Jorge Flores via unsplash

And we could read books. Stacks of books. We read at the airport, beach, bookstores, coffeeshops, and in bed until we fell asleep. Sometimes reading passages to each other. Sometimes swapping books. One late, long drive we took turns reading short stories to each other. We forgot our regular lives and entered into fictional strangers’ new schools, first dates, secret obsessions, trespasses, and crimes. When we surfaced from that collection of stories, on that dark highway, our own lives felt different.

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by Glen Noble via unsplash

I just finished Everbloom: Stories of Living Deeply Rooted and Transformed Lives, a collection of essays, stories, and poetry by the Redbud Writers Guild. This would be have been just the right book for that weekend away with my sister.

We were both at a crossroads, longing for change, to be in different roles, to be loved by different people, to walk in different directions. But we didn’t feel like it was in our power to create those differences, and if it was, we didn’t know really know how.

The stories in Everbloom would have encouraged us. Women are longing for, processing, grieving, and celebrating all kinds of changes in these pages: Cara doesn’t want to move, Dorothy is learning to how to cry, Amy is single again, Mallory has a huge scar on her back, Ruth is finally adopting, Suzanne is falling in love with her exchange student, and Leslie is buying a padded leopard-spotted bra. I was captivated.

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by Les Anderson via unsplash

I felt welcomed and encircled reading Everbloom. These women wanted to share their stories with me. For me. They wanted me to find the same hope and truth they did. No one was teaching at me with a pointed finger. No one wrapped their stories up with a bow. No one was waiting for thumbs up at the end of her piece. They were offerings for me to do with whatever I wanted.

If my sister and I read this collection that Florida weekend I’m certain we wouldn’t have liked the same pieces. She would have rolled her eyes at some sentiment about marriage. I would have rushed through some section about finding one’s voice. One of us would skip all the poetry, the other would analyze it. I felt freedom, not obligation, reading this book.

I think that comes from the Redbud Writers Guild’s deep purpose to create authentic community among women. As a Guild they equip and inspire all levels of writers, without competition or comparison. It sounds hokey and hippy, but as a new member of the Guild I can say they are pulling it off. That warm intention is evident throughout Everbloom.

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by Jiri Wagner via unsplash

This would be a great book for anyone in transition this summer. Because we know transition often leads to transformation, and that’s what Everbloom is all about. And we know transition often makes us feel alone and unsteady. High school graduates, college graduates, summer travelers, empty-nesters, mid-life wanderers, young mamas – it would be fresh for all of them.

When I give this book to my friend next week I’m going to say,

“Hey, I know you’re trying to figure a lot out right now. I think this Everbloom book would bring sweetness to you. There are 41 pieces in here. You don’t have to read them in order, you don’t have to read them all, you don’t have to like them all. But I’m certain there are words in here that will echo your heart, and you will feel known and understood. I think you’ll find hope. I love you.”

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By Prasanna Kumar via unsplash

[Note: I received a copy of Everbloom from Paraclete Press in exchange for an honest review.]

* * * *

everbloomTo purchase Everbloom: Amazon, Paraclete Press

To learn about the Authors: Redbud Writers Guild

To read other book reflections: Brave is the New Beautiful, Keeping Place, Still Waiting, Long Days of Small Things, Redeeming Ruth, Slow Kingdom Coming

@Aimee Fritz & Family Compassion Focus, 2017.

Six Different Ways to Be Beautiful

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If you are looking for an article about crunches, the Whole 30, or eyelash lengtheners, this is not the piece for you.

This is about being Brave.

I bet you’re rolling your eyes. Is this going to be about “beauty on the inside”? Probably written by woman who could benefit from some airbrushing? Is she going to talk about our “good personalities” or how much “Jesus made us and loves us”? No thanks.

I really am just going to talk about 6 Brave things I’ve done that make me feel more Beautiful, whole, and strong. I’ve been walking toward this kind of beauty for a long time, with lots of counseling, prayer, and reflection.

I was flabbergasted to find my story written out by someone else.

Lee Wolf Blum’s new book, Brave is the New Beautiful, is compelling, encouraging, and relatable. I read it cover to cover in one very long bath. I smiled and cried reading stories so similar to mine (and similar to yours, I guarantee it).

There were 6 things I learned about being Brave, that must be universal, because Blum and the women she writes about discovered them, too. Here you go:

1. Toss aside the measuring stick.

There will always be someone smarter, skinnier, richer, and prettier than me (and you). There will always be a better mother, daughter, sister, friend, and co-worker out there. I’ve tried to prove this wrong, but in my years of effort, I rarely held on to that top spot for more than a day or two.

Eleanor Roosevelt famously said, “Comparison is the thief of joy.” Isn’t that the truth? I’ve had so many great dates, family gatherings, parties, and girls nights out ruined by comparing myself to everyone else in the room.

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photo by Jennifer Burk via unsplash

Blum starts her book by asking, “how do we toss aside the measuring stick?” (p. 26)

Close your eyes for a moment and imagine walking on the beach this summer and NOT CARING what you looked like. And not caring what they looked like. And not caring what they might think you look like.

What about walking into church? Or Christmas with the extended family? Or the big presentation in the board room? What if who you were, just as you are, was enough?

That’s the kind of Brave, the kind of Beautiful, Blum wants us to find in ourselves.

2. Disconnect the U-Haul of Shame

We remember all those times we’ve been compared and fallen short, and carry them with us in heavy backpacks, steamer trunks, or long U-Hauls. We can categorize these failings by time (5th grade, Freshman Year, 30th Birthday), place (school bus, gym class, locker room, bridal shower), type (too fat, too loud, too mousy, too emotional), person (that teacher, parent, frenemy, boss, famous icon). But it’s all the same thing, that vicious bully, Shame.

Blum writes, “disconnect that U-Haul of shame from [your] lives and take steps to move on.” (p. 59)

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Maybe with the U-Haul gone we’re free for adventure instead?  photo by Jan Erick Waider via unsplash

I imagined flicking on my turn signal, rumbling into the gravel on the shoulder of the highway, getting out of the car, slamming the door, putting my hair up, and standing over the tow bar between my little car and the overstuffed U-Haul of Shame. The tow bar had been soldered, rusted, and locked to my car. I imagined bashing it with a sledgehammer, over and over, until it cracked and crumbled. I wiped my brow with my forearm, shoved the U-Haul with a big kick, and watched it roll backward into the ravine. I cheered. Then ran back to the driver’s seat, peeled out, and sped away, light and free.

That’s how I want to live. No more U-Haul of Shame. Blum’s book shows us how to be this kind of Brave and Beautiful.

3. Get Your Story Out

When we come up short in comparisons and are shamed by it, we are conditioned to hide. Definintely don’t call attention to it. Definitely don’t expand on it. The risk of being misunderstood is scary–Are you trying to defend what makes you gross and inadequate? Are you trying to play the game without following the rules? Are you trying to change my mind? Who do you think you are?

Blum tells us we’ve got to talk.

“The stories burning a hole inside you are the stories you need to get out of your body, where they are no longer hold any power over you.” (p. 61)

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I’m a journal. photo by Simson Petrol via unsplash

I’m a verbal processor, so I have tell my stories to a trusted friend. But I also needed to tell my stories to a trained professional. When I unspooled my secrets so many of them withered and died in the light of day. I got less headaches and stomachaches after telling my stories. My posture changed and I became physically stronger.

If we want to be Brave, and truly Beautiful, we’ve got to get our stories out. Journal them, talk about them in session, teach them, publish them, but take control of your story and get it out from the dark, musty, creepy corners and into the bright light.

4. Make friends with your needs

We all know being needy and clingy is gross. We don’t want needy people hanging all over us either. At the peak of my self-loathing I thought of my needs as ugly street dogs, whining, howling, and following me everywhere I went. I hated them.

Blum quotes Cloud and Townsend’s book Safe People, “Make friends with your needs. Welcome them. They are a gift from God, designed to draw you into a relationship with him and with his safe people. Your needs are the cure to the sin of self-sufficiency.” (p. 49-50)

Make friends with my needs? My needs are from God?

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photo by Anoir Chafik via unsplash

I turned around and looked those street dogs in the eyes. I pet them. I bought them jangly name tags. One puppy was called “Being Understood,” another was “Being Important,” and the other was “Being Needed.” They were slobbery and yippy. I could have used all those papers from the boxes in the Shame U-Haul to potty train them.

Blum later quotes Nadia Bolz-Weber, “Our brokenness and imperfections are the spaces where we stand in need of God in a way that we don’t in our excellence.” (p. 97)

So I can’t be Brave or Beautiful without the puppies?

When I stop comparing, disconnect from shame, and get my story out, I can then accept my needs. Instead of shooing away those ugly street dogs, I see that God is showing me how to properly train them, because he sent them to help me. They are becoming excellent guard dogs, service dogs, and companions.

When my needs keep me connected to God, they don’t make me weak or ugly, they make me Brave and Beautiful.

5. Set limits

A lot of our journey to be Brave and Beautiful is private. We quietly re-order our thoughts and habits as our pain is redeemed. We begin to thrive. We begin to act and relate differently.

And some people don’t like it. They want everything the old way.

But we can’t go back to the old way. We can’t be in loving relationships with someone who always pulls a measuring stick out, re-attaches the U-Haul, mocks our stories, or kicks our puppies.

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“Good fences make good neighbors” – Robert Frost – photo by Nick Niemeyer via unsplash

Sometimes we have to set limits with people we desperately want to love, and leave places we thought were forever homes.

Blum tells a really hard story in Chapter 8 about strong woman who has to separate from a very bad relationship. The grief and loss this brings the Brave and Beautiful woman in the story is palpable. Blum reflects on the bravery it takes to set those limits:

“God didn’t make me quiet and demure, and he didn’t make me to conform. He made me uniquely me….I know it and believe it. I no longer try to be someone I’m not, and I can tell you for sure that not everyone likes the authentic me.” (p. 124)

I cried when I read this paragraph, because not everyone likes the authentic me either. I remember cherished relationships that died when I began to heal. God has provided rich friendships in their place, but sometimes I still grieve the loss.

Standing firm in loving boundaries is one of the Bravest and most Beautiful things God has taught me to do. It changed my life.

6. Surrender

Even though I’ve done a lot of inner work and I’m more whole than ever, I still sometimes struggle to believe God loves someone who is *so much work.* I got lost in recent months, and forgot a lot. After reading Brave is the New Beautiful, I realized that I needed to go back to counseling.

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photo by Swaraj Tiwari via unsplash

Blum shares that she was stuck, too, and paves the way for women like me to continue on our healing journeys. She admits to her counselor, “I’m afraid to believe something new.” (p. 143). That new thing is “to believe God adores me despite me is a deeper and richer kind of love than I’ve ever known.” (p. 146)

Even though she’s been so Brave, and so bolstered by the stories of dozens of Beautiful women, it’s still hard. I don’t just need to surrender to another season of soul-searching, confession, radical acceptance, and counsel. I need to surrender to God. I can let go of self-help, gimmicks, and pep talks when instead I grasp tightly to the believe that the Master of the Universe tenderly and relentlessly loves me no matter what.

By the end of Brave is the New Beautiful I felt deeply understood, far from alone, and loved. I felt hopeful that God was never going to stop loving me, and all the women I know searching for love. I felt Beautiful. Because I was going to be Brave.

thumb_nonfiction_brave-is-the-new-beautiful* * * *

I hope you will read Brave is the New Beautiful. I know you will find your own story in it’s pages.

  • This would be great for your small group. Read the book and gather together to share your own Brave stories.
  • Maybe you’ll order it today for your mom, daughter, sister, or friend in time for Mother’s Day. Perhaps include a note stating one Brave thing you love about her.
  • If all I’ve shared seems foreign and crazy, yet somehow appealing, order it for yourself and ask God, “I want to be the woman you made me to be, Brave and Beautiful. Will you show me how?”

To buy Brave is the New Beautiful: Amazon

For a free 4 day Bible Study to accompany Brave is the New Beautiful: YouVersion

To visit the author’s website: Lee Wolf Blum

[Note: I received a copy of Brave is the New Beautiful from David C. Cook in exchange for an honest review.]

Related Posts:

©Aimee Fritz & Family Compassion Focus, 2017.

Six Different Ways to Go Home

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After being chased all day by work deadlines, kid drop-offs, online and in-person misunderstandings, and perpetual obligations, I just want to go Home.

Jen Pollock Michel, in her new book, Keeping Place: Reflections on the Meaning of Home writes, “we are hardwired for place and permanence, for rest and refuge, for presence and protection” (p. 33). That’s how I feel when I pull in the driveway for the the last time each day–it’s like lunging for base in game of tag.

I’m safe. I’m Home. 

I experience the hardwiring for Home in 6 different ways, some temporary, some satisfying, some internal, some external, sometimes all of them all in one day.

1. Home is Where I Keep My Stuff

That’s the first layer – my stuff. It’s the collection of what I need, want, and what’s important to me. My bed. My special pillow. My selected foods put where I like in my cabinets. My wedding album. My books. My boxes of my kids’ keepsakes tucked away in the basement. My guest room where I can invite you to leave your home and stay in mine. Home is where I keep and protect all that’s precious to me. I feel content and in control.

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by Erwan Hesry via unsplash

On long trips growing up we joked that “Home is where the majority of your underwear is.” On those trips I also had my favorite clothes, books, music, and makeup, so a hotel room, Gramma’s house, or friend’s basement could also be Home, the base to catch my breath, while we were away.

In Keeping Place, Jen Pollock Michel doesn’t talk much about Home as Storage Facility and Control Center. She takes us far deeper, past the stuff, and into the longing: “Biblical words related to home can denote a physical dwelling, family household, material possessions, as well as geographical and social connections, but these words only hint at the emotional dimensions of the English word home and it’s cousins in German, Danish, Swedish, Icelandic, and Dutch. In these languages…home also describes an emotional state of being” (p. 28).

I might feel happy and safe at home, but deep down I know I need more.We_groan_for_permanence._We_long_for_home.

2. Home is My Address

Home is literally where I live. The first line in my GPS, the center pin on my map. The place I receive amazon boxes and Christmas cards. What I type into evites for birthday parties, holiday meals, and lip sync competitions. When I give you my address, I’m telling you where you can find me.

Addresses are also an shortcut to knowing someone’s presumed status. Anyone can type  my address into google for an aerial and street view of my house, the value of other houses on my street, the closest schools, and the nearest grocery stores. They might use that information to inaccurately determine my family’s worth and identity.

When a new friend is on their way over I sometimes wonder what they’ll think of my address. Will they think I’m too poor, not good enough, for us to be friends? Will they think I’m too rich, too snotty, for us to be friends? It reminds me of Lorde’s classic, Royals:

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by antonio grosz via unsplash

“And I’m not proud of my address, in the torn up town
No post code envy

But every song’s like gold teeth, Grey Goose, trippin’ in the bathroom
Bloodstains, ball gowns, trashin’ the hotel room
We don’t care, we’re driving Cadillacs in our dreams…”
– Royals lyrics © EMI Music Publishing, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Songs Music Publishing

In Keeping Place, Michel begins chapters and sections with specific addresses. I love this device. I love inside scoop into an author’s real life. Especially when I’ve been in or near the same places, like Illinois, Ohio, and Canada. I can instantly know if it would snow there, how tall the trees get, how early the sun goes down. The quick sense of place grounds me and loops me into the story. (If I chose to google those addresses maybe I could see her old houses, and make snap judgements about her parent’s income or what kind of education her kids might have, but that’s never been my thing.)

3. Home is My Child

I think I might be in the minority with this one, but my Home is like one of my kids. When we buy a house I name her, like I name my houseplants (Mickey), and major appliances (Rosita) and our golf cart (Lil’ Wayne). Once I figure out my Home’s personality I give her my attention and affection. I think about my Home when I’m away and pick out souvenirs for her along with my kids: what might my Home like and need? who might she become someday, with the right amount of love, preparation and investment?

Keeping my Home costs the same as raising a child, if not more. A new roof is the same cost as braces and ongoing retainers. New windows are equivalent to a year of college. Our second house, named the Bluebird, was a 105 year old Sears Home. She was like a pretty elderly woman humming in the corner. I loved freshening up her lipstick and buying her new clothes. But she was also a bit mischievous, wetting her pants when it rained, and often needed major medical attention from the plumber, electrician, and handyman. I loved her anyway.

by arno smit via unsplash

by Arno Smit via unsplash

Keeping Place refers to God as Homemaker. As a woman, equally embracing and despising that role for myself, I was delighted. Imagining for a moment God vacuuming, doing laundry, setting the table, and checking the roast expanded my understanding of his intimate care and my importance in our Home. I delighted in the Bluebird and in the family and friends who worked, rested, and played there.

Michel made the creation stories in Genesis come alive in new ways. First, the Homemaker God makes the world “as joyful preparation for [His] children, who arrive at the threshold of the world on the sixth day…he created an oxygenated world–because it suited us” (p. 64). This happy anticipation reminded me of my nesting seasons, repainting the nursery and organizing tiny diapers in rows. And it reminded me how my mom buys our favorite foods, makes up the beds, and puts fresh cut flowers on our nightstands when we fly out to visit. God was intentional and excited to prepare a place just right for us.

Then Michel hones in on God “putting” things in places. “Much like we put our shoes in the closet…God put Adam in a garden” (p. 65) In Genesis 2:8 and 2:15 the Hebrew word represents “rest” or “safety” (p. 66). When I’m preparing for friends and family I put things in their place, in anticipation of my guests’ likes and dislikes. I put the fragile vase up high and the safety gate up with toddlers are coming over, I put a towel on the floor for wet boots, I put extra blankets in the guest room on cold nights.

Receiving the intimacy of God as Homemaker makes me more grateful for his love, sovereignty, and care.

4. Home is When I Feel Loved

I remember flying Home from college and standing on my tiptoes to see my dad waiting for me at the gate (back when you could do that). I was finally done with finals, the long plane ride, and the interminable taxiing to the gate. When my Dad hugged me, and took my dark teal messenger bag off my shoulder and onto his, I was Home.

Then I fell in love and got married. That amazing man and I made our Home in each other, and every day was like greeting each other at the airport. Decades later, when I see my husband across the room, hear his voice on the phone, or stare at him from the passenger seat, I know I’m Home. Thanks be to God.

Several years into our marriage I found the old Billy Joel song, “You’re My Home.” (If you don’t like Billy Joel you’ll think this song is cheesy.) The sheltering love my husband offers makes me feel safe and warm, understood and delighted in, welcome and wanted:

by bekah-russom-via unsplash

by Bekah Russom via unsplash

“Long as I have you by my side
There’s a roof above and good walls all around
You’re my castle, you’re my cabin
And my instant pleasure dome
I need you in my house
‘Cause you’re my home
You’re my home”

– Written by Billy Joel • Copyright © Universal Music Publishing Group

Once again, Michel takes the idea of Home=Love much further in Keeping Place. She reminds us, “The nuclear family cannot bear the full weight of human hope and expectation, struggle and need. It’s too fragile and human and entity” (p. 137). That’s both disappointing and a tremendous relief. I’m deeply thankful for my husband (and kids), whom I adore, but we’ll never get all we need from each other. We’re not supposed to. Michel’s descriptions of the role of church and marriage remind me that that Home is far bigger than anyone can rent, tithe, or marry.

5. Home is Myself

St. Catherine of Sienna, the 14th century Italian mystic, said, “Make for yourself … one actual home … and another spiritual home, which thou art to carry with thee always.” When I recently re-read this I felt unsettled. Do I feel at Home with myself, my true self? Do I take care of myself as well as I take care of my house? Am I more welcoming to people that are not me?

by ehud-neuhaus via unsplash

by Ehud Neuhaus via unsplash

I’m working on everyday acceptance of the person God made Aimee Fritz to be. I’m thanking God for my personality, gifts, talents, mind, spirit. And body–the external part being Home with myself. It feels rebellious and exhilaring. I don’t look 20 because I’m not 20. I look exactly like who I am, a suburban mom in her 40’s who likes to cook and have people eat over more than she likes to run. When I look in the mirror these days I laugh remembering this wonderful story from Anne Lammott:

“I was not wearing a cover-up, not even a T-shirt. I had decided I was going to take my thighs and butt with me proudly whenever I went. I decided, in fact, on the way to the beach, that I would treat them as if they were beloved elderly aunties, the kind who did embarassing things at the beach, like roll their stockings into tubes around their ankles, but whom I was proud of because they were so great in every real and important way.” – from Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on  Faith

This self- and body-centered idea isn’t a part of Keeping Place, but it is an important part of my own understanding of Home. In Michel’s chapter “Perished Things” I resonated with her intentional decision to visit the places she grew up, where her father died, and where her brother committed suicide. She went to remember, learn, and grieve. It brought her healing, understanding, and redemption.

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by Erwan Hesry via unsplash

The prelude to my journey of self-acceptance, receiving with joy the gifts God purposefully gave to me, is all the moves I made growing up. It’s not as horrific as death, but it was traumatic for teenage me. Four different states and five different schools in six years caused me to question, experiment, re-invent, celebrate, and sadly sometimes loathe the woman I was becoming. I didn’t rest. I didn’t feel at Home with myself for a long time.

But I do now. I’m thankful for Christ’s continual healing work.

6. Home is Jesus

With this newfound freedom and boldness I feel even more hospitable than my generous parents raised me to be. If God made me, loves me, forgives me, and heals me, then who really cares what everyone else thinks? I want to hug more people. I want to have them around our new table (that extends to seat 16 comfortably, 20 not as comfortably). I want to hear their stories. I want to serve them too much Thai take-out and too many of my daughter’s homemade desserts.

Our Family Compassion Focus this year is “Create Refuge” –  for our friends, classmates, colleagues, grandparents, refugees, neighbors, and each other. We want our Home to be a big umbrella to rest under when the questions, inconveniences, and tragedies of life come pouring down. We want to be bridge to love, understanding, and God.

Home is not just where we live and are loved. Home is what we offer, especially as Christians. I’m going to give you all the love I’ve got as a friend, but that’s not enough. You’ll need Jesus to fill in the gaps. I’m going to give you all the food and free place to sleep in your travels, but let’s admit that God provided it all. I’m going to listen to your worries and secrets, but the only hope I can offer, that I’m certain will work, is Jesus Christ, the Savior of Your Heart and the Whole World.

This is the primary message of Keeping Place: God has created a Home for us, because he loves us. We live in that Home, celebrate it, keep it, and invite everyone we can to live there with us, with Him. We do that through church, marriage, feasting, and resting. Michel writes:

dave-lastovskiy-via unsplash

by Dave Lastovskiy via unsplash

“Our redemption story is bound up with the housekeeping of a table. In our homes we keep the feast by offering God’s welcome to others: not only family and friends, Jesus said, but the needy stranger (Mt 25:35-36). Around our tables we feed Christ himself, and our shared feast-keeping is sure measure of our love for him.” (p. 165)

Where’s Home for you? How do you get there? Is it when you’re surrounded by your favorite things? When you order your first return address labels? When you learn to keep house? When you fall in love? When you like yourself?

I pray you revel in each kind of Home, because they all are pointing us toward our true Home in Jesus.

* * * * *

My reflections about Home were ignited by Jen Pollock Michel’s beautiful, thoughtful, new book, Keeping Place: Reflections on the Meaning of Home. It is rich with profound but accessible ideas about the physical, relational, and spiritual Homes we make.

I wrote about the increasing depth on my own understanding of Home in this post, and Michel will take you much farther. In her book you will learn about nostalgia, grief, women’s rights, church, marriage, sabbath rest, and heaven.

I have many ideas scribbled in the margins of my copy of Keeping Place. I need to spend much more time praying and writing about them. For now I can only imagine writing them in a journal, because Home is a deeply personal. My list of things I need to explore to re-order/redeem my thinking about Home:

  • To_be_human_is_to_be_homesick.My 11 Addresses – What roots have I dug up and transplanted in each Home? What have I left behind? What have I lost? What can be found again to make my current Home thrive?
  • Can Home be more than one place? – Will my kids say they are from Georgia when they go to college? Or will they always say they’re from Wheaton, Illinois? Have I finished grieving my (almost 2 years ago) move away from our Wheaton Home?
  • Can I honestly say the Lord is my Home? That all my stuff, my identity, my love, and my service all fits into and under my relationship with the God who loves me?
  • How can I make my Homemaking more worshipful as a creative, steadfast, and welcoming woman with generous service and firm boundaries? What new things can I try? What old things could I stop?

I enjoyed quietly reading Keeping Place by myself, carefully answering the study questions in the back, and praying through the tough answers. It also would be great for small groups, with or without the DVD. I’d love to hear your thoughts after you read it.

* * * * *

keeping place coverTo purchase Keeping Place – Amazon, IVP

**[Keeping Place is already out of stock on Amazon. Here is a 30% off code to buy the book (and DVD) at IVP – code is READKP]**

To read more – Jen Pollock Michel’s Q&A about Keeping Place

To learn about the author – Jen Pollock Michel’s website

To read other book reflections and author interviews: Slow Kingdom Coming, Long Days of Small Things, Still Waiting, 9 Arts of Spiritual Conversations, Redeeming Ruth, and Seeking Refuge

[Note: I received an advanced copy of Keeping Place from InterVarsity Press in exchange for an honest review.]

©Aimee Fritz & Family Compassion Focus, 2017.

Love and Loss – a Comparison of Redeeming Ruth and Arrival

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[Warning – this post contains spoilers for the 2016 movie Arrival and the brand new memoir Redeeming Ruth.]

 

Is it better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all?

 

I finally watched Arrival, the award-winning, thought-provoking alien movie, starring Amy Adams as a linguist who saves the world.

arrival poster

©Paramount Pictures

In the beginning of the movie there’s a montage of Louise (Amy Adams’ character) and Hannah, her cherished child who becomes very ill and dies. Later we find out Louise is remembering/forseeing her child, and her fate, before she even becomes pregnant. She chooses the relationship that will create her daughter, and to bear and love her fully, even though she knows the the suffering and loss that lies ahead.

arrival via twitter

©Paramount Pictures

I had just finished Meadow Rue Merrill’s powerful new book, Redeeming Ruth:Everything Life Takes, Love Restores. I couldn’t help weaving both stories together as I watched Arrival.

Redeeming Ruth is a fresh, clear, beautifully written memoir about adoption, courage, special needs, provision, faith, hope, and suffering. 

redeeming ruth book

©Hendrickson Publishers

One day a beautiful toddler with cerebral palsy is placed into Ruth’s arms at church. This orphan was sent to the States for medical treatment, and possibly adoption. Meadow and her family fall in love with Ruth, long to spend more time with her, begin to take care of her, and then begin a lengthy, costly, adventure (including a long, perilous trip to Uganda) to finally adopt her.

Doors close and open. Financial gifts come at just the right time. Favor is granted. Ruth learns to hear and communicate. It’s beautiful and victorious, over and over again. As a devoted adoption advocate I was cheering the Merrill Family every step of the way. I wanted the love and courage they poured out.

redeeming ruth photo

©Meadow Merrill

From the beginning, though, we know Redeeming Ruth is going to be a hard story. The subtitle “Everything Life Takes, Love Restores” makes that clear. We read in the prologue that Ruth is gone and Meadow is grieving. We know we’ll be getting the whole story of her joy and suffering.

That is Louise’s story in Arrival, too. The heptapods, the aliens visiting from the future, reveal her future to her. She chooses it anyway, knowing the life of her daughter, and the love she already has for her, is worth it. We see Louise’s powerful, silent acceptance to proceed in spite of what will one day come. That’s the only version of grief we are shown in the movie.

arrival via vox

©Paramount Pictures

In Redeeming Ruth, we are shown the full reality of the grief that comes from loving so fully. We get glimpses of Meadow’s deep sorrow at the beginning of every chapter through dreams, memories, and songs. When we later read the story of Ruth’s death it’s awful. We witness Meadow’s raw and real grief–the anger, second-guessing, self-blame, and despair. We understand, and we join in, because we’ve fallen in love with Ruth now, too. 

redeeming ruth via ct

©Meadow Merrill

One key difference between Arrival and Redeeming Ruth is the deep foundation of love, joy, and coming-soon redemption. When I finished the book I immediately thought, with grateful tears, “Thank you, God, for this beautiful story of life, hope, provision, and love. Thank you for Ruth’s life. Thank you for entrusting the Merrill family with her.” We can tell that Meadow, her husband, and kids are living with an uncommon gratefulness and abiding sense of God’s goodness because of Ruth.

Rally-round-Ruth

©Meadow Merrill

When I finished Arrival I was agitated with sorrow. The foundation wasn’t joy or redemption, but fear and perhaps too much knowledge. Was it worth it? Would Louise be okay? How could she be?

abigail-pniowsky-via teenidols4you

@Paramount Pictures

I watched Arrival, contrasting it with Redeeming Ruth, on Good Friday, as it so happens. The strong parallels kept me up late, long after the movie ended, braiding together the beauty of the movie, book, and Jesus’ death. Just like Louise in Arrival, Jesus knew that suffering and death were coming. He knew the past, present and future all at the same time. Just like Meadow in Redeeming Ruth, Jesus knew that death is not the end of the story. He knew that suffering is never in vain.

One of my kids is suffering through an incredibly difficult season. It’s heartbreaking. I thought about it all through Arrival and Redeeming Ruth. Aliens didn’t reveal my child’s life story and struggle in advance. I didn’t choose or expect a child that would endure so much struggle. I’m unprepared and overwhelmed. I often wonder how much more we all can take. I beg God to take this suffering away.

But sitting alone in the dark, late on Good Friday, I found my resolve, my faith again. I considered with deep admiration the courage of Louise, Meadow, and Jesus. I slowly prayed, with whispered conviction,

“I see the suffering, God. I see that it might not end for a long time. But I will keep going. Because of love. The love You have for me. The love You have for my kid. The love I have for my kid. The love they have for me. I see You in all this, Lord. I trust You to redeem it all. Have mercy. Thank you. Amen.”

Redeeming-Ruth-quote-9

redeeming ruth bookPlease buy the beautiful Redeeming Ruth wherever books are sold: Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Books-A-Million, Target, Christianbook, and Hendrickson.

Note: I received an advanced copy of Redeeming Ruth from Hendrickson in exchange for an honest review.

©Aimee Fritz & Family Compassion Focus, 2017.

 

Sign of the Times

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[Published on Evangelicals for Social Action 4/19/17]

“I think I’ve changed my mind. I don’t think we should do this.” I bit my lip and put my hands in my pockets.

“Don’t be nervous. Be proud. This is who we are,” my husband said. He’s used to my last-minute jitters.

“What’s the point? Are we trouble-makers? Are we show-offs? I don’t know.” I glanced at the sign on the counter, threw my head back, and sighed.

“Come on. Let’s do this.” He headed out the front door.

That afternoon I had gone to Clarkston, Georgia with a friend of mine and all our kids to Refuge Coffee Co., the place we adopted during our Family Compassion Focus last year. I chatted with our resettled refugee friends working on the coffee truck, tried a new tea, bought some new mugs, and brought home a sign offered by World Relief Atlanta that said in clear black letters REFUGEES WELCOME HERE.

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But when I saw the sign in my trunk when we got home my stomach twisted. I have never had a sign in my front yard for any reason. We sometimes fly an American flag, and a “W” flag when the Cubs win, but never anything that could be seen as remotely political or religious (well, the Cubs flag might border on religious).

We live in a beautiful, safe suburb, far away from the city of Atlanta and all public transportation. It started as a planned community almost 50 years ago, and affectionately refers to itself as “The Bubble.” It’s known for its golf carts, good schools, and die-hard conservative Republican values. I didn’t see one Clinton sign anywhere in town during election season, but I saw dozens of Trump signs. There were four in my picturesque, tree-lined neighborhood.

What would The Bubble think of a sign proclaiming REFUGEES WELCOME HERE?

My husband slid the skinny metal stakes into the Georgia clay.  I pleaded, “No! Not like that. Not head on! Our neighbors across the street didn’t ask for this. I don’t want them to have to see it every time they look out the window.”

He adjusted the sign.

“No! Not like that either. I don’t want to shove this in anyone’s face. Let’s move it over a few feet, and at an angle so it doesn’t point at anyone’s front door?” I paused. “Or how about we don’t do this at all?”

He waited.

I knelt down, pulled the sign out of the ground, moved it over, and pivoted it to face in between two houses. My stomach flipped again. Our neighborhood’s very active, vocal HOA is not a big fan of individuality. I didn’t want any trouble.

My husband helped me up. We stepped out to the sidewalk and stared at the sign. My husband then walked back to it, and shoved the stakes deep down in the ground. We held hands and prayed.

“Lord, help us live out what this sign says. For refugees we already know. For refugees we don’t know. For neighbors. For new friends. Our house belongs to you.”

We called our son out to take our picture. We posted that picture of us holding hands over the sign on Facebook and Instagram. Friends of our family and and allies of refugees liked, loved, and commented on it. It got more attention than our 20th wedding anniversary picture. It’s just a sign. But it’s also statement.

I hardly slept that night. I fitfully dreamed about the sign being stolen, neighbors pounding on the door, angry emails, and my house being set on fire. When I got out of bed in the morning I ran down the stairs, opened the front door and checked to see if the sign was still there. Please continue reading at Evangelicals for Social Action

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by Jez Timms via Unsplash

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©Aimee Fritz & Family Compassion Focus, 2017.

Home-Grown Liturgy

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[Published on The Mudroom on 3/7/17]

It all started when the priest’s wife hugged me under the tall trees in my front yard and gave me her secret recipe to make Church of the Great Shepherd’s communion bread. Even though I wasn’t ordained, didn’t have a fancy robe, and didn’t own a Book of Common Prayer, I was invited to be a part of the sacrament and splendor of our young Episcopal church.

Unshowered in yesterday’s workout clothes I whisked warm milk and honey together, rolled dough on my floured kitchen table, cut circles with a biscuit cutter, and marked crosses on each round with a serrated knife.

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My bed-headed twins followed me to the oven in their footie pajamas.

“Mama, is that bread?”

“Yep. Bread for Jesus. For communion. We remember Jesus loves us when we eat communion bread.”

“Mama, can we have that bread today?”

“This bread is for church tomorrow, bunnies.”

When the timer went off I held my toddlers back with one hand and opened the oven with the other. The cozy smell of warm wheat and honey enveloped us. My kids begged, “Oh, Mama, the bread smells so good! Can we have some? Pleeease, Mama!”

I shook them off, laid the trays on the cooling racks and counted. We needed at least 25 rounds for the service, 28 were preferred. I had 28. I looked at my babies’ faces.

I broke a round in two and gave them the pieces declaring:

“Taste and see that the Lord is good.

Jesus loves you, Caleb.

Jesus loves you, Zoë.”

I added butter to the next one and repeated our brand new home-communion prayer. I put butter, honey, and the prayer on the one after that. They smiled and licked their fingers. “The Jesus bread is so good, Mama.”

“Amen, kiddos. Jesus is good.”

I didn’t know if I was allowed to share the church’s bread with my kids without the liturgy that preceded it on Sunday mornings. But I couldn’t resist. We tasted and saw the Lord was good every time I made those milk and honey rounds in our sunny little kitchen.

I loved going to church even more then. It was like meeting with God under a lush, broad tree. Ancient prayers, new songs, Scripture, and truth hung like ripe fruit all around me. I loved the taste of that fruit. I plucked all I could carry, hoping it was enough for me and my family until we gathered under the tree again.

I ate it all week. I shared it with the people I loved. I found myself reciting the church’s Prayer of Confession on the treadmill, singing the Doxology when I tucked my kids in, and making little crosses on my family’s heads, chests, and hands all the time, even though I didn’t have holy water or anointing Chrism oil. After participating in a few Baptism services I silently renounced Satan, wickedness, and sinful desires during my kids’ baths. When I shampooed little Greta’s hair I told her:

“You are sealed by the Holy Spirit in Baptism

and marked as Christ’s own for ever.” (Book of Common Prayer)

The truth of Christ’s love was so sweet and bountiful in the liturgy at church. The tree was never bare. I smelled, tasted, chewed and swallowed it. Those words and practices restored my soul.

All those years of liturgical fruit planted seeds in my own yard. God grew new trees, for new fruit, to feed us in the hard times that inevitably came between church services. Like when we tried to get out the door for school.

One particularly bad day, when shoes, scarves, and punches were flying, I loudly begged read the end of this story on The Mudroom

french-white-enamel-pitcher

via Omero Home

Related Stories about Liturgy & Family:aimee fritz bio pic

©Aimee Fritz & Family Compassion Focus, 2017.

Still Waiting by Ann Swindell

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I’m not good at waiting. I rip open the new bag of chips in the Kroger parking lot, love reading spoilers for TV season finales, weave in and out of the fast lane, and almost die waiting for my kids to get to the point of whatever story they’re telling.

I’m definitely not good at waiting for big, important things. I writhed, groaned, swore, cried, doubted, and yelled at God in the hard, long seasons of waiting before I finally recovered from a car accident, finally got pregnant, and finally popped the champagne when my husband got a new job.

I’m still waiting for lots of things. I’m back in physical therapy for a running injury and back in counseling for heartaches. A beloved friend might be on the verge of finally beating her decades-long illness. My kids pray everyday for me to stop being allergic to dogs so they can get one. We can’t find a church that nourishes and challenges us.

Sometimes I’m not sure if I’m supposed to change my prayers or just give up praying. I wonder what I’m doing wrong. I wonder what God is up to. I question who He is.

I’m not good at waiting.

So it took some courage for me to open Ann Swindell’s book, Still Waiting: Hope for When God Doesn’t Give You What You Want. Because I sometimes don’t want to learn how and why to keep waiting. I just want what I want when I want it. And I was afraid this book would condemn me.

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I was deeply wounded in past seasons of waiting. My beautiful youth group leader, who didn’t know how I often I begged my new Savior to be healed of my insistent acne, declared “I don’t know anyone walking with Jesus who has bad skin.” My friend’s friend called me for the first time just to diagnose, “Do you have any unconfessed sin in your life? Because that’s probably why you can’t have a baby.” They assumed my waiting was part of God’s punishment, and that He wanted to see me squirm until I relented, repented, and proved I was worthy of His healing.

It messed me up for years – because I believed it. I believed Jesus withheld healing in some menacing power struggle. I sometimes fell into a bleak and grace-less living because of this insidious rewards-and-consequences thinking.

In those seasons I was a like a eager woman in a pretty dress still waiting for her blind date to show while the severs swept restaurant floor. I was like the shivering, cold, hungry woman at the bus stop, looking down the street for a bus that might not come. I hate feeling like that. I want to avoid all the pain, uncertainty, embarrassment, and shame of that kind of waiting.

But I am still waiting for many things. So I took a deep breath, said an “Okay, Lord, I’m listening” prayer, and opened Still Waiting.

The book starts with this profound truth:

“We wait because we are broken, 

and we are broken because we are waiting.” (p. 12)

She starts her story from the very beginning, when she was a little girl, when she first knew she was broken, and when she first started waiting. She lets us see how hard waiting has been. I underlined it all in solidarity: feeling defeated (p. 14), feeling like a disappointment (p. 22), a nagging feeling of constantly failing (p. 30), a deep soul weariness (p. 59).  I was so thankful this wasn’t going to be some pollyanna book about grinning and bearing it. I was so glad I wasn’t alone.

My heart softened, more ready to hear whatever God wanted to reveal next through Ann’s words.

sunday

Then, like an apologetic, rain-soaked, pants-ripped blind date, or a warm and well-lit bus, God showed up with this extravagant, new-to-me truth:

“God does not equate evil with weakness.” (p. 38).

That’s not what my youth group leader said about my skin, or my friend’s friend said about my infertility. They equated my weakness, my inability to fix what was broken in myself, with sin and evil. But God does not.

I stopped reading, leaned back on the couch. I prayed, “O God, is this true? Really true? Maybe my acne and infertility weren’t punishments? I feel like I know it’s true, but sometimes I don’t know how to live like it’s true.”

annual springbreak sale 20% off onall selected items

That’s what shame does. I struggle to trust the deep love of Jesus while I wait for my prayers to be answered because I carry a very heavy backpack of shame (more on this later). Throughout Still Waiting, Ann weaves in a re-telling of the shunned and outcast Bleeding Woman (Matthew 9, Mark 5, and Luke 8) from the gospels. I have felt shunned and outcast, rejected and misunderstood, too. It’s hard to shake that off. Ann explains,

“Because once you see yourself as an outcast or as someone who doesn’t fit in, the stigma doesn’t need to come from anyone else. You carry it in your mind, in the folds of your person.” (p. 82)

Then bitterness and anger can take root. Ann shares her own despair with unanswered prayer, and again it’s like a page out of my own journal:

“The tears ran down my face, wetting the pages of my journal, blurring my vision. I was crying now, but not with God. I was crying at him. I wanted to push him away — this God who is all places and everywhere– and I wanted to run from him.

That was how I started to understand how people became bitter, how the seeds of anger turn into deep roots of dismissal when it comes to trusting God. Petty as my own little world might have been, it was the only world I had. If God wouldn’t show up there, in the middle of my life, how else could I know him?” (p. 103)

Ann then clarifies the choice I’m going to have to make next time I’m in that desperate, confusing place of unanswered prayer:

“And while it’s good to be honest with God, there is a distinct difference between heartfelt honesty and hostile honesty. Heartfelt honesty comes to God on its knees. Hostile honesty comes to God pointing a finger.” (p. 105)

Deep in my season of infertility an older friend told me my prayers sounded like resignation more than relinquishment. I didn’t know the difference. She recommended an old classic from Catherine Marshall called Adventures in Prayer. I found a large-print copy with yellow brown pages at the Wheaton Public Library. In it I discovered this treasure:

“I RELINQUISH THIS TO YOU:

Father, for such a long time I have pleaded before you this, the deep desire of my heart: _____________________________. Yet the more I’ve clamored for this, the more remote You have seemed.

I confess my demanding spirit in this matter. I’ve tried suggesting to You ways my prayer could be answered. To my shame, I’ve even bargained with You. Yet I know that trying to manipulate the Lord of the Universe is utter foolishness. No wonder my spirit is so sore and weary!

I want to trust you, Father. My spirit knows that these verities are forever trustworthy even when I feel nothing…

That you are there.    (You said, “Lo, I am with you always.”)

That you love me.    (You said “I have loved thee with an everlasting love.”

That You alone know what is best for me.    (For in You, Lord, “are hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge.”)

Perhaps all along, You have been waiting for me to give up self-effort. At last I want you in my life even more than I want _______________________. So now, by an act of my will I will relinquish this to You. I will accept Your will, whatever that may be. Thank You for counting this act of my will as the decision of the real person even when my emotions protest. I ask You to hold me true to this decision. To You, Lord God, who alone are worthy of worship, I bend the knee with thanksgiving that this too will “work together for good.” Amen.

 – p. 70-71, Adventures in Prayer by Catherine Marshall

“Hostile honesty” unleashes my offended, defensive resignation, while “heartfelt honesty” unfurls into open-handed, trusting relinquishment. I had forgotten this profound lesson. I stopped reading and prayed. In my heart I braided Ann’s story, the Bleeding Woman’s story, my story, and Catherine Marshall’s prayer into a thick, strong rope. This rope is going to pull me back into soft-heartedness the next time my hearts gets hard from waiting for what feels like too long.

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One of the most powerful chapters in Still Waiting is the chapter about Shame. Shame is a liar (p. 132), pairs itself with struggle (p. 128), prevents us from seeing through the lens of grace (p. 129), makes us ashamed of our need for grace (p. 129), makes us want to hide our brokenness (p. 129). Ann proves she’s wrestled with the shame that comes from waiting:

“Shame makes it feel impossible for us to extricate ourselves from our struggles.

Shame makes it seem that our value is tied to our brokenness.

Shame pairs our worth with our weakness.

Shame yokes us to lies.

Shame tells us that our identity is only as whole as the image we can put forward.” (p. 131)

Like I mentioned earlier, I have a long history with shame. Others put labels on me like “ugly,” “barren,” “too much work,” or “too sensitive.” Jesus bent down, tenderly peeled the labels off and threw them away. But shame/Satan likes to find those labels in the trash, licks them, and stick them right on my forehead again with a snicker. In some seasons, I looked in the mirror, sighed, pressed that label harder onto my skin, slumped my shoulders, and shuffled away lugging the huge backpack where I kept all the dirty labels ever put on me.

I agreed with shame more than I agreed with God.

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All that self-condemnation, swallowing shame’s lies whole, especially in those vulnerable seasons of longing and waiting, is no way to live. Lord have mercy, I do still fall into believing and living those lies on dark days. I sometimes forget the precious Bible verse Ann proclaims to bring new hope and redemption:

“Whenever our heart condemns us,

God is greater than our heart,

and he knows everything.” – 1 John 3:20 (p. 135)

Hallelujah. Oh Lord, help me to live in this glorious, shame-erasing truth as I wait.

The rest of Still Waiting features the beautiful climax and denouement of the Bleeding Woman and Ann’s understanding of what suffering, waiting, healing and faith really mean. I read this book in one day, unable to put it down. How would Ann describe what Jesus looked like when he saw the Bleeding Woman? How would she show us what healing felt like, and how that changed her whole life? How would Ann’s story end?

There are profound statements about identity, encountering Jesus, grace, and trust, but I’d like you to read all those pages for yourself. I’m confident God will speak something unique and life-changing to the places in your heart that are weary of waiting. Because, like me, I’m sure you are still waiting for something.

Please keep reading below to find my email interview with Ann, her author page, a video from the publisher, and links to buy Still Waiting.

You are not alone in your waiting. You are seen. You are heard. You are loved.

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Hello Ann! I’m thrilled to have you here, and to celebrate your beautiful book. Please tell us about yourself.

I’m a goofball at heart with a deeply pensive streak; or maybe I’m a deeply pensive person with a goofball streak. Either way, I’m highly passionate and contemplative, but I love to laugh and have dance parties with my little family! Speaking of them, I’m a wife of ten years to a wonderful man and a mom to a sweet little girl. They are the joys of my life! Professionally, I write in various publications and also teach online Christian writing courses at WritingwithGrace.com.

View More: http://annwhitephoto.pass.us/swindell

What is your new book, Still Waiting: Hope for When God Doesn’t Give You What You Want about?

Ultimately, it’s a book about learning to trust and love God more—even in long seasons of waiting when our prayers aren’t getting answered the way we want them to be answered. In sharing my own particular story, my hope is that the reader will be able to experience the truth that right here, in the middle of the mess and the hurt—this is where Christ is with us, and this is where we can experience his love and goodness.

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I love how you imagine the Bleeding Woman’s story. Of all the stories about longing and faith in the Bible, why did her story resonate strongest?

Still Waiting is threaded through with the story of the Bleeding Woman from the Bible, in large part because the longer my own prayer for healing wasn’t answered, the more I became drawn to her story. She had been bleeding for over a decade before Christ healed her; she had seen a lot of doctors, and no one had been able to heal her. In fact, the Scriptures tell us that she had only gotten worse. Christ alone was the only one who could make her well.

While my story isn’t the same as hers, Still Waiting details my journey with a physical condition that also didn’t have a “cure” in the traditional sense. Both of us had conditions that doctors didn’t fully understand and couldn’t fix.

And there, in that overlap between our experiences, I found emotional and spiritual connections with this woman in Scripture. Although she was at the end of her proverbial rope, with no earthly hope of healing and no way to change her circumstances, she clung to hope. When Jesus walked by, there was still a spark of faith and tenderness left inside of her; she had not shut her heart down or walked away from God. Instead, she was willing to reach out and try again—and that is why I love her story. I want to be like her in this way: I want to keep my heart tender toward Christ and full of faith even when my circumstances aren’t changing.

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You talk about shame in Chapter 6 of Still Waiting. I resonated strongly with your words. Why does shame taunt us while we wait? Is there any way to avoid it?

We’ve all experienced shame, and it’s hard to fight against those emotions. But I also know that as a child of God, I do not have to live with shame; Christ defeated shame once and for all at the cross. I have learned to walk in this freedom and silence shame as I read the Word and discover my true identity there, as I pray and encounter the presence of Christ, and as I share my story with others. Surprisingly, the thing I was once the most afraid of—others finding out about my brokenness—has become a place of great grace and freedom in my life. As I’ve opened up and offered my story to others, I have found that instead of feeling more shame, I have been able to experience the grace of the Gospel afresh, because everyone else is waiting for something, too. Whether they’re waiting for healing, or for wholeness, or for relational reconciliation, all of us have weak places in our lives that still need God’s touch. When we share our stories, we help one another put our hope not in our circumstances but in the God who is making us more like himself and has purchased our freedom through his blood on the cross.

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What is your dream for your book, Still Waiting?

My hope and prayer for Still Waiting is that it will point readers to the goodness and trustworthiness of Christ as they are in the middle of their own waiting seasons. I want them to read this book and know that they’re not alone, that they’re not forgotten, and that God is with them in their journey. That’s my biggest dream!

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Thank you, Ann! 

I strongly recommend Still Waiting, friends. This is a beautifully written book about the tender struggle to trust God when He doesn’t give us what we want. I saw myself in Ann’s story, and the Biblical story of The Bleeding Woman. I remembered my long, painful seasons of waiting, and how it pushed me to the very edge of my faith, where I sometimes lost my way.

In Still Waiting Ann gives us permission to admit we’re broken, weak, ashamed, and suffering. We all feel that way, especially when we risk believing that God really loves and sees us even when He won’t heal us. That’s a deal-breaker for many of us. 

But Ann reminds us that grace, hope, sweetness, identity, and redemption are lavishly provided for us while we wait. Not in a greeting card, fake, forced way. Not because we will it to be okay. But because God is there with us while we wait.

I’m still waiting for many things. I trust you, Jesus. 

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Here are links to buy Still Waiting: Hope for When God Doesn’t Give You What You Want and connect with Ann all over social media:

* I recieved a complimentary copy of Still Waiting from Tyndale Momentum.

©Aimee Fritz & Family Compassion Focus, 2017.

I Confess: I Don’t Want Donuts

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[Published on the Redbud Post on 4/1/17]

Last weekend, I had eleven 12-year-old boys in my basement for a youth retreat. It was chaotic, gross, and perfect. We heard unhindered laughing, chasing, yelling, and body noises through two floors and closed doors. The leaders talked straight about God and good choices. Our doorbell rang at all hours, announcing the arrival of more volunteer drivers, youth mentors, and meal makers from the church.

My son glowed with testosterone and belonging.

On Sunday afternoon, I pulled on a hazmat suit and headed down the basement stairs to survey the damage. I picked up Slim Jim® wrappers, vacuumed millions of chip crumbs and rainbow Nerds candy, and looked away gagging when it came time to clean the toilet. But the entire time I smiled to myself and thanked God.

This retreat was so much better than the last one.

* * *

When we moved to a new state a couple years ago, we knew we needed to find a church right away. We were deeply invested in the charismatic liturgical Anglican one we left behind. Her rhythms and traditions were thickly braided into our family’s social and spiritual life.

We soon discovered there was nothing like our former home in our new town. We visited many new places, and every one made at least one of us cry on the ride home. We sighed a lot. We took a lot of Sundays off.

One church was always recommended. It was by far the most popular church in the area, especially for middle school and high school kids. We were constantly warned, “If you go there be ready to stay because your kids will never want to leave.”

They were right. At first.

The morning we visited that church my sixth-grade twins were welcomed with unlimited soda and donuts in a hipster lounge complete with pallet board walls, minimalist furniture, and flat screen TVs. The staff smiled broadly in their matching shirts. Our kids begged us to get out and not embarrass them.

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by Bethany Newman via unsplash

We took our youngest up to the elementary school section. It was a brightly painted carnival with cheery music and cuddly volunteers. They gave out free candy when she checked in. Our daughter hugged us tightly when she said goodbye, cheeks full of Starbursts®.

My husband and I then found a seat in the back of the dark balcony. It was so much like the megachurch from my childhood, where my parents found Jesus. I felt like a 90-year-old crank. The music was too loud, the fog machine was thick, the flashing lights were bright, and the singers’ names, and twitter handles were posted on the screens. The sermon was a video projected life size onto the stage. It was entertaining, and I wished I had popcorn and some of the sweets my kids were given.

On the ride home our son, amped up on more sugar than he’d had in weeks, led our debrief: “Is this really a church? I’m not sure it’s really a church. It’s more like a concert or something? The music was so loud! And there were lights. I don’t remember anything about God. And there was smoke! I couldn’t figure out the smoke. Wait! Is it like in the Bible?! Like when they laid their offerings on the altar for the Lord? So the smoke machine is supposed to remind us to make sacrifices?!”

Our former church, with her sacraments and incense on high holy days, would have been so proud. How dear that this boy assumed that the fog machine was a nod to ancient worship practices. We burst out laughing.

But we went back. More soda, donuts, and Starbursts®. More lights and fog. More exuberant entertainment. It still didn’t feel church, but our tweens in their formative years didn’t complain, so we kept going back.

They begged to go on the big youth retreat. We prayed hard and released them onto one of the ten buses that would carry them off to zany adventure and promised encounters with Jesus. I gave the leaders my cell and begged them to text/call if they needed anything.

They looked wrung out when I picked them up two days later. They told me the weekend was “fine.” I assumed they just needed long naps, lots of water, and some protein. Desperate for details, I asked my son later if he learned anything new during the weekend. He fought back tears and answered, continue reading at the Redbud Post…

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by Thomas Kelley via unsplash.com

Related Posts:

©Aimee Fritz & Family Compassion Focus, 2017.

Long Days of Small Things – World Changer Wednesday

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The day I received Catherine McNiel’s new book, Long Days of Small Things: Motherhood as a Spiritual Discipline, I was too tired to even open the package. I already read tons of books on parenting and spiritual disciplines, and I didn’t think this would be much different. I didn’t have it in me to read a couple hundred more pages of obligations and aspirations.

Several long days later I slit open the package and skimmed the table of contents. It included Eating, Menstruation, Sex, and Sleeping. Hmm. Those are not the regular spiritual disciplines I keep trying to practice (like Silence, Service, Secrecy, Prayer). Those are things I already do. Intrigued, I excused myself from family movie night, grabbed my take-out sushi and hot tea, snuck upstairs, and started reading.

A few hours later I finished the book. The pages were marked with underlines, circles, arrows, and notes. The edges of my sleeves were wet from my tears. I felt understood. I felt empowered. I felt respected and valuable as a woman and a mother. I wrote the author that night to tell her that her words were already healing my weary heart, specifically in the areas of calling, femininity, order, and perfectionism.

I’ve been a mother for 13 years, and I struggle with the noisy, anonymous, labor-intensive costs of this calling. I compare myself to women who seem to do so much more. I compare myself to spiritual and corporate leaders who bring epic glory to God in world-changing ways. Catherine offers an alternative in the first chapter called Redemption,

“Some religions, such as Hinduism and Buddhism, have a name for people in this predicament: householders. Recognizing that people can’t just up and leave their spouses or children, these religions give householders a different set of expectations. Rather than become meditating monks, studying under gurus and wandering alone through the forest, householders are asked, for now, simply to be faithful in responsibility.” (p. 9)

Maybe instead of my comparison, envy, fatigue, and shame, I could revel in this season of holding up my house? Maybe that would be good enough? She had my full attention already in the first chapter.

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With Menstruation and Breastfeeding in the table of contents I knew that meant we were going to talk about our bodies. That made me edgy. Having a woman’s body has made it harder for me at work. I know in this post-feminist age I’m supposed to feel empowered, equal, and important wherever I go. But I often don’t. I’ve been sexually harassed, ogled, and touched by inappropriate men. I’ve been discredited and dismissed in corporate and Christian places because I was a woman, the person God made me to be.

Sadly, my body made it hard for me to be a mother, too. In my long season of infertility my (male) doctors rhetorically asked, “What’s wrong with your body?” as I lay prone in the stirrups. When it came time to deliver my long-awaited twins the (male) doctor scoffed, “You don’t even know how to push? Your body is supposed to know how to do this.” When I tried to nurse my preemies in the NICU the earnest lactation specialist pleaded, “Just relax, your body knows what to do” as she held my hurting breasts in her hands. I felt shame constantly. Why did God make me this way?

But Catherine’s chapter on Creation reminded me “creation is a sacred center of being female” (p.36). I had somehow forgotten, despite my stretch marks and the baby pictures around the house, my body grew three babies. And then my body made milk to feed those babies. In those things I was mirroring the God who creates and nourishes. Catherine shows us how God did those uniquely feminine acts in the very beginning of the Bible:

“In the first two verses of Genesis, God – in Hebrew the grammatically masculine Elohim – is about to begin creating. Meanwhile, Ruach is hovering over the waters. Can you imagine it? That silent moment before it all begins, and God’s breath of life is ready. Elohim about to command, Ruach hovering as a mother bird prepared to receive and shelter her soon-born offspring. These metaphoric images are deeply evocative of the moment of creation.” (p. 43)

How incredible. My strong, sweet, dedicated husband literally cannot bear, birth, and nurse a child. Only a woman can do that. I did that. And when I form, feed, and grow my children I am like the Lord. Amazing.

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Now that I have my children one of my greatest challenges as a householder, a mother, is keeping order. I’m also sensory averse to things that are sticky and smelly, so I’m always buying baskets, shelves, Lysol wipes, and stain sticks to try to keep my life tidy and clean. Entropy always wins, and feelings of futility and anger taunt me. Catherine offers a different perspective in her chapter on Incarnation,

“We are hungry, our hair is oily, our hands are dirty. We are creatures surrounded by creation. We are alive. We are creative and fruitful and fertile. Motherhood is the opposite of sterile.” (p. 59)

I need that reminder. I would rather my children’s friends (and their parents) see our home as a safe place where life, creativity and mistakes happen, instead of a sterile, silent place where order and perfection are demanded. I want to reclaim that freedom and grace in our everyday lives as an intentional spiritual practice.

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And, speaking of grace, Catherine’s chapter on Nurture gently confronted the perfectionism that haunts the edges of my view of God. Deep down I still sometimes fear that God is demanding, far-off, and exasperated when I don’t know what I’m doing. But Catherine reminds me God is not like that at all:

“God did not describe himself as someone who arrives promptly to every church service or makes it to the office without ketchup on his jacket. No, God describes himself as compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love and forgiveness – like a mother with her child….As a gentle parent who teaches a baby how to walk, who leans down to feed and hold her. As the mother who gave birth and nursed her infant, who comforts and protects her child like a mother hen.” (p. 87)

It’s been eight years since I nursed my last child, but my whole family still needs a gentle parent to guide us with encouraging smiles as we learn how to walk into soccer games, middle school dances, and pop quizzes. Our family life is always going to be ketchup-y and messy, and our patient nurturing God is going to stay with us the whole time, like a nursing mother. That constant grace will cushion and comfort my kids as they make mistakes and me as I make mistakes parenting them.

We are going to be okay.

These are just a few of the ideas that resonated with me from Long Days of Small Things. There are nine rich chapters and 27 practical ideas to try. I will continue to go back to this book for encouragement. I strongly recommend it.

Please continue reading for my interview with Catherine McNiel, author of Long Days of Small Things: The Spiritual Discipline of Motherhood.

[Links to buy her book and visit her website are below.]

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Thank you for joining us at Family Compassion Focus, Catherine! Please tell us about yourself.

Hey there! I’m a mom with three kids, and a few part time jobs. I’m a book worm and I’m always trying to learn something new. I love everything about words…reading, writing, researching, talking, listening. I’m entirely addicted to the creation of new life but I find that helping things grow in the garden is less exhausting than pregnancy. 🙂

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What is Long Days of Small Things: Motherhood as a Spiritual Discipline?

Long Days of Small Things is a book that looks at the real life work we do in our everyday lives, and finds God right there in the midst of it. We think of spirituality as something that happens in our minds, in silence. We are taught that our bodies, our mess and complications and noise hold us back from being with God. That doesn’t leave a lot of hope for moms, whose pregnant or post-partum bodies, newborns, toddlers, and van-full of carpool kids have no end of loud, messy, physical, chaotic needs.

But God made us, didn’t He? Genesis describes Him getting in the dirt and forming us from the dust by hand, then breathing His own breath into our mouths. That’s pretty physical and messy! Then He actually took on a body Himself. The King of Kings wiggled around in a woman’s womb, surrounded by amniotic fluid. He entered the world through her birth canal. God was born, you guys. That’s our Good News.

All this physical stuff that we feel keeps us from Him is the same stuff He used to meet with us, to speak to us, to save us.

So Long Days of Small Things is a book for moms “who have neither quiet nor time” as the cover says—though dads, grandparents, and other caregivers have enjoyed it as well.

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©NavPress

 

When did you know you needed to write a book about motherhood and spiritual disciplines?

A few years ago I was a work-from-home mom with a baby, a toddler, and a preschooler. These precious children took me all the way to the end of my rope and left me there indefinitely.

But even though my life changed in every way, the spiritual prescriptions I heard were the same: Spend quite time each day with God. Find 30-60 minutes each day to be in silence and solitude before the Lord.

But I couldn’t even go to the bathroom by myself!

As I considered the classic spiritual practices (which I love!)—prayer, study, worship, fasting, meditation, service, solitude, etc.—it became abundantly clear that the realities of motherhood meant I was likely to fail. Or, more likely, opt out entirely.

But my spirit didn’t allow me to do that. I heard a lament rising in the hearts of the women around me—I have nothing left, nothing left to care for myself or give to God. And that is 100% true. But as I walked through the actual seasons and tasks of motherhood, I became convinced that there is no better “boot camp” for my soul.

Each day we mothers create, we nurture. We are pushed to the end of ourselves but we carry on, we persevere, we keep giving, surrendering, sacrificing, pouring out. We empty ourselves for those in our care. And isn’t this place of desperate emptiness, where we must fall back on God, the same place that the spiritual disciplines are designed to take us?

I’m convinced that motherhood is doing an eternal work on my soul, even if I’m too exhausted and overwhelmed to notice just now.

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©Catherine McNiel

 

What spiritual discipline is drawing you in most these days?

I end each chapter of Long Days of Small Things: Motherhood as a Spiritual Discipline with three “practices” that, while perhaps not listed in Foster’s classic (and wonderful) book on Spiritual Disciplines, can be practiced in our actual mommy days. And I confess, I wrote the book but like St. Paul, it’s “not that I have already attained all this.” I’m still trying to remember to practice each of these. The ones that call to me the most are the simplest: Breath. Walk. Be.

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What’s the hardest part of mothering for you?

Oh, the chaos. I think I’m a pretty good mother one-on-one. But as soon as there’s a gaggle of people all yelling and crying and peeing at the same time…well, I just unravel.

What’s your favorite part of mothering?

The snuggles! I describe in Long Days of Small Things how stubbornly my kids and I pursue The Good Snuggle, even though we know it always ends with an elbow in someone’s eye. I just love those rare moments of peace and sweetness and softness. I am storing them all up in my heart.

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©Catherine McNiel

How does the message of Long Days of Small Things relate to compassion?

Well, a few different ways. In Long Days of Small Things I talk about how there is a place in the Bible where God introduces Himself. That’s a pretty big deal, right? I’m more interested in how God describes Himself than in whatever anyone else has to say about Him. And He begins with “The Lord, the Lord, compassionate and gracious God…”

The compassion God has for all creation is analogous to the posture a parent has to her child. And in nurturing our children we are not only surviving the day and fulfilling our tasks—we are living icons of God’s nurturing, loving compassion. I’d say representing God’s compassion each and every day is kind of a big deal, too.

Also, my heart brims over for moms. Moms are just buried in messages of “shoulds” and “ought-tos.” Nothing is ever good enough. We’re always just one less-than-optimal decision away from ruining our children entirely. We had a natural birth but didn’t breastfeed. We breasted but didn’t’ co-sleep. We co-slept but we should have done sleep training. We did sleep training but couldn’t afford organic food. We bought organic food but we went to work and we should have stayed home. We stayed home, but we should have gone to work. There’s just no way to win.

I’m convinced that if moms can feel the reality of God’s compassionate presence, and the value that He placed in our bodies and their tasks, then we will have enough peace to approach the world around us with compassion as well.

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©Catherine McNiel

What’s your dream for this book? What are your hopes for the moms reading Long Days of Small Things?

I told my publisher and editor so many times: I want the title, the cover, and every word to convey that I’m not saying you should do more. You are enough. You are doing so much, and there is value here already. God is here already. These long days of small things make us feel shunted to the side, second class, invisible.

But I’m certain of one thing: this is the very place God meets us. That’s why we practice spiritual disciplines—to arrive at this place. I’m confident that every flowing, bleeding, dripping, sticky, crying, dirty, wet, exhausted piece of motherhood is a piece that God made and loves, a place where He came, and place where He is.

If moms can hear me say that, and accept the invitation, and find Him there—my dream will be complete.

Anything else you’d like to share? 

Hang in there, Mama! May you see God’s own dignity, strength, and beauty in your body and spirit as you courageously take on this wonder-woman task He has given you. May you sleep through the night, and may you have time in the bathroom without interruptions.

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Thank you, Catherine!

I have read dozens of books on parenting and spiritual disciplines, but none that explain, simplify, and expand both topics with the clarity, grace and liberty I found in your book, Long Days of Small Things. I feel empowered and ennobled. I feel respected and valuable to my family and the world. I’m thankful for my body, my story, and my role.

Your words are helping me redeem, reclaim, and rename my history and dreams as a mother and a woman.

 Friends, I encourage you to buy and read Long Days of Small Things: Motherhood as a Spiritual Discipline.

  • If you are in a small group with mothers, read this book together.
  • If you go to a group like MOPS have them bring Catherine to speak.
  • If you are going to a baby shower, include this book in your gift. And read it beforehand, so you can pick one of the passages to read to the women gathered.

 

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aimee fritz bio picMore hope for moms: I Stopped Praying for My Kids,  Moms: World Changer Wednesday

More reviews for books I love: Kent’s Slow Kingdom Coming, Crilly’s 9 Arts, Matt’s Seeking Refuge

©Aimee Fritz & Family Compassion Focus, 2017.

Update – The Long Family – World Changer Wednesday

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Last Fall I was thrilled to feature the Long Family on a World Changer Wednesday. They have a beautiful story of seeking, obeying, risking, and now welcoming a new daughter into their family. You can read all about it below, or at this original link here.

The Long Family has a big update: Camilla is coming home very soon! They are thrilled, and are desperate for more families to explore adoption through Kidsave, and support adoption through Camila’s Candles. Here’s the scoop from Mary Beth:

For those that are intrigued by the possibility of helping orphan children who have little chance of being adopted in their own country, there is an opportunity for you to help and possibly take action:

Kidsave, the organization referenced in an earlier blog post, has begun recruiting for their Summer Miracles Program. It is an amazing 5-week summer program that matches orphan children ages 10-14 with host families. The children come to the United States for this brief period and enjoy a once in a lifetime experience of living with a family, learning about American customs and feeling loved. Most of the children end up finding a forever home either with their host family or a family they meet during the summer.

We participated in the Kidsave program last year and hosted our soon to be daughter, Maria Camila (Cami). It was an amazing, life changing experience. Cami traveled with 16 other children this summer who also stayed with families across the United States. 7 of those children were hosted in our area (Washington, DC/Baltimore). Every weekend that the children were here we attended events so that the children could meet other families and experience fun activities with their host family. We had so much fun together and as a side benefit, we ended up forging very strong bonds within our little host community.

I ask that you prayerfully consider whether or not your family could open their home this summer to one of these children. Kidsave holds your had the whole way through the process and I promise you will never be the same! http://www.kidsave.org/programs/orphan-hosting/

Another way you can help is by providing donations to kidsave or to one of the families that are in the adoption process. I believe that part of the reason more people don’t adopt is the shear expense of funding it. An international adoption can cost nearly $40,000 to complete. Another wonderful way to help these orphan children is to make it possible for more families to adopt. For more ways to make donations you can contact: Ellen Warnock of Catholic Charities in Baltimore.

A different way you can help Maria Camila in her transition to the United States is by supporting Camila’s Candles. I make homemade soy candles for all occasions to help create awareness and support for older children searching for homes. Part of the proceeds will help Maria Camila directly as she settles into her life in the United States and launches her life.

Thank you MB! 

Friends, please consider hosting a child with Kidsave, donating to an adopting family, and/or buying some Camila’s Candles today. (I bought the soy candles in the small tins for all of my neighbors for Christmas. MaryBeth wrapped each one and included a informational card about Camila’s Candles and adoption. My neighbors were delighted by the gift, the packaging, and the non-cloying, original scents. Check it out!)

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Aren’t these candles perfect for Valentine’s Day?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Here is the original post about The Long Family from 10/19/16:

I met Mary Beth years ago. We were both going through soul-crushing infertility. Our friendship was a gift from God in that long, hard season. We kept each other laughing and praying as we shared the absurdities, humiliations, disappointments, and hopes of trying to have babies. We desperately wanted to be mothers. Oh, how I thanked God not to go through that alone!

If you told us we’d have 6 six between us we would not have believed you.

I love Mary Beth’s frank common sense, strong faith, and contagious humor. You’ll love reading how this led her family to a brand new, exciting, life-changing adventure.

Hi Mary Beth, please tell us about your family!

Carter, 12: Our first born. A miracle because there was a time we thought we would never be able to have children. He is funny, witty and has a heart of gold. He is as wise as an 80 year old man and can make you laugh as hard as you did when you were a kid.

Mary Grace, 10: She has a big swelling heart and is a lover of all babies, animals and grandpas. She hurts when others are hurting and would do anything to make you stop crying (including cry herself). She is loyal, loving and girly and she will tell you the truth whether or not you want to hear it.

Bill: My husband/my rock and indulges all my wild ideas and tempers the ideas that are truly insane. He is a devout Catholic man with a mantra that men must be the spiritual leader of their family and be a reflection of God in the home. He is a great father and is obsessed with coffee and listening to podcasts (ask anyone if they have ever received advice from Bill and they will tell you that he forwarded them a podcast).

Me: It is tough to talk about myself. Bill calls me the heart of the family but I often feel like I fall short of this title. I love being a Mom, I love my faith and for the most part I have a zeal for life. I have been blessed with an amazing family both extended and immediate but have always had an itch inside where God was telling me that I wasn’t quite done being a Mother.

I spent a lot of time since January reflecting on what God was asking from me. We were not blessed with more of our own biological children and I struggled with why I had such a strong yearning and desire to grow in my vocation of motherhood. I guess I simply lacked patience in discerning what God had in store for me. It is now abundantly clear that God was slowly preparing me to open my heart to the possibility of adoption and to welcome into my family our soon to be new 12 year old daughter, Maria Camila.

The Long Family

How is your family showing compassion this year?

This year the Catholic Church is celebrating the Jubilee year of Mercy. Many people in the world are familiar with Pope Francis and the incredible inspiration he has been to the world over the past few years. When he visited Washington last fall I took Mary Grace and Carter to see him speak on the Capitol Lawn. It is an experience that we will never forget. We were literally moved to tears. Because of his visit and this being the year of mercy our family has been reflecting on what this means and what we are being called to do.

The Holy Father said that “Mercy is the very foundation of the Church’s life.  All of her pastoral activity should be caught up in the tenderness she makes present to believers; nothing in her preaching and in her witness to the world can be lacking in mercy.  The Church’s very credibility is seen in how she shows merciful and compassionate love.”  Our family has interpreted that to mean that we need to come outside of ourselves to acknowledge the suffering around us and try to bring compassion to others.

We have found that it can be as simple as visiting our sick neighbor or as hard as hugging my Aunt tightly moments after the love of her life passed away. As a family, however, our most important act of mercy this year will be to welcome our soon-to-be daughter, Maria Camila into our home and make her part of our family.

via www.missionsandiego.org

How did this all happen?!

We did not plan on adopting a child and in a million years and I never imagined us adopting a preteen, but God has a great sense of humor. During the big winter blizzard last January we were virtually trapped in our little section of the neighborhood and crawled through the ice and snow to go to our neighbor’s house for dinner. Anyone who could get there was invited. As we broke bread and shared some laughs I found myself engaging in a fairly serious conversation with my next door neighbor. She began to tell me the story about Kidsave.

The Kidsave Summer Miracles program brings older, harder to place orphans to the United States for the summer so they have a chance to see the world but to also meet a forever family. We eagerly signed up as advocates hoping that we could help give a child a fun summer and find them a home. I don’t think we realized that she would literally turn our lives upside down and help us see that her forever home was with us.

©KidSave

How did you choose your plan of action?

Honestly because Kidsave led us to Maria Camila we did not have to do a lot of work developing a plan of action. Kidsave was (and still is) an incredible blessing. They made everything so easy for us. They continue to support us and help us find the way.

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Why are you doing it?

Ultimately because God is calling us to. We have been so blessed and we know it is our turn to give something back. Maria Camila is a little girl not that different than my daughter Mary Grace. She loves to draw, swim, sing, and have fun. The only difference is that her parents abandoned her when she needed them most. She did nothing wrong, but has no one. It is hard to sleep at night knowing that you could make a difference in this child’s life and give her the same chance that we have given to our own biological children. We could possibly change the entire direction of her life by opening our home.

Carter, M, and Maria Camila

What’s been the hardest part?

To be truthful it is easy to be selfish. It is much easier to say “I like my world the way it is” and not take this on. It is hard to admit that there are those selfish moments when you think it would be easier to just walk away but it never lasts long. We get back to the drawing board and figure out ways to make this work, to make her part of our family and to get all of that paper work done!

The Long Family before they knew Marie Camila would be their daughter and sister.

Do you have any advice for other families?

Yes, don’t forget to ask God what he wants from you. I think we so often pray for what we need and want and forget to find out from God what he has planned for us. Once you have a better idea of what God has in store it is a lot easier to live in peace. I don’t think adoption is for everyone. We each give what we are able to and we each have special talents that we can share. However, I will say this, whatever it is that God is asking you to do, God will not be outdone in his generosity. He will make sure you have the tools, friends and resources you need. I can promise you that.

Summer Miracles 2016

How can we join you?

You can join us in praying for Maria Camila. There is long road ahead for her. Before she ever leaves Colombia she must have surgery on her arm (a terrible infection that would never have progressed if she had good medical care). She needs to learn the language and she needs to adjust to life in a family. So do we for that matter. Your prayers are helpful! You can follow the story as well at our blog www.asummermiracle.wordpress.com. Now that we are moving forward with this adoption we have a lot more to tell.

Also, I know there are other families out there who would be perfect as host families for the summer miracles program. Let’s find them. I had no idea this program existed until this past year and I am sure that there are many others who don’t know but would love an opportunity like this to help a child. Maybe you’re one of those families? http://www.kidsave.org/programs/orphan-hosting/

Finally, I have started making candles to raise awareness for older orphan adoption and to raise money for kidsave and for Maria Camila’s transition. Here is the link to read more and order: https://www.etsy.com/shop/CamilasCandles?ref=l2-shopheader-name

Let God’s light shine upon you in all that you do and let’s bring a little bit of that light to others.

Camila's Candles are made with love by the Long Family

Camila's Candles - you can order some today!

Thank you, Mary Beth!

Team Fritz bought a few candles and had them shipped to us. They smell terrific and are so well done. I encourage you to buy some, too! They would make excellent additions to the Christmas, and end of year cash gifts you give to teachers, doormen, doctors, house cleaners, mailmen, pastors, etc. Check it out on their Etsy page!

Related Links:

  • An article in the Catholic Herald about the Long Family is here.
  • Read about more World Changers here.
  • Read the Farrell Family’s and Berger Family’s adoption stories here and here.

©Aimee Fritz & Family Compassion Focus, 2016.

Same Home Different House

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“Mom, are you mad?” She handed me another stack of dirty plates.

“I just don’t agree, hon. I don’t think it’s true.” I took the plates and glanced up quickly to her earnest eyes.

“Mom, it’s who I am. Don’t you see it? It totally makes sense.” She picked up a handful of  dirty silverware.

Of course I saw it. In the clothes she wore, the books she read, the memes she laughed at. Her identity had been uncoiling in front of us for months. It scared me.

“Honey, you’re in 6th grade! I think it’s, like, a phase, you know? I don’t think you have to make a declaration for your whole life right now.” I scrubbed a platter with anxious vigor.

“Mom. Don’t tell me I’m going to outgrow it. This is who I am.” She stopped clearing the table and looked at me.

“Honey, please. It can’t be true. Why would anyone choose that for themselves?” I looked down at the sink.

“Mom, I didn’t choose it. It’s how I’m made.”

I turned off the water and looked up at my beautiful 12 year old’s face. She was standing straight, strong, and sure looking at me with defiance and hope.

“Mom, I’m a Slytherin.” 

* * * * *

Slytherin? The wizards at J.K. Rowling’s Pottermore website had sorted my daughter and declared her a member of the House of Slytherin. She was now in the same clan as the notorious, vengeful, selfish, evil, bullying villains of my kids’ beloved Harry Potter books. They want world domination at any cost. Their symbol is a snake. They delight in killing the good guys. I was appalled.

It was like finding out your daughter was in Stormtrooper training and wanted to be Darth Vader. Or that she liked Tolkein’s Orcs and didn’t think Sauron was that bad. Or that she was happily dating Johnny, the guy who “sweeps the leg” to cripple Ralph Macchio in Karate Kid.

No thanks.

I wanted a cheery Hufflepuff girl to find the good in the world and help multiply it. Or a courageous Gryffindor girl to go after what’s wrong in the world and fix it. Or an intelligent Ravenclaw girl to revel in the witty intricacies of life and teach us all. Any of those would be fine. I wanted daughter that’s easy to like and easy to understand.

But we don’t always get what we want.

I don’t think my mom did.

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via playbuzz.com

I was dearly and deeply loved in my home growing up. But I was definitely in the wrong House. In all the different ways we could be sorted, I didn’t match anyone else in my family.

  • “We’re all Second-Born’s, Aimee. You’re a Firstborn.”
  • “You’re such a Choleric Melancholy. We’re all more Phlegmatic.”
  • “Well, you are the only Red Head.”
  • “I think you’re in the only Extrovert in our whole family.”
  • “So you want to study Literature? Why not Medicine or Business like everyone else?”
  • “Why do you like the Liturgical church? We are Non-Denominational.”

In a family that prized peace, quiet, and going with the flow, I was a boat rocker, questioner, and instigator. I liked to dig deep, pick fights, and tell the truth. (I was also a melodramatic exaggerator.) The times I felt most myself were also when I felt most misunderstood. The things that came naturally to them were almost impossible for me. Sometimes I cheated on assessments make my answers come out to match my family. But I always cringed at the summary pages – I couldn’t be like them no matter how hard I tried.

I assumed all my differences were probably sins. I begged God to fix me.

When I left my loving home to grow up, I found my House. I found friends, teachers, mentors, counselors and a husband who got me. They called me more into my true self. I belonged.

I learned the things that made me different were actually God’s gifts, for my own soul and the whole world. What I assumed were my weakness and faults were strengths and callings. I re-took and re-read all the assessments with different eyes. This is how God made me. And it is good.

But was that true for my daughter? Did God make her a Slytherin? 

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“Harry Potter Thematic Park” by rpphotos via flickr

I wish I could tell you the night my girl came out I dried my soapy hands, opened my arms up to her with a smile, held her tight, and said, “I love you.” But I didn’t.

I refused to believe it. I actually cried about it with my husband behind closed doors. I prayed, “God, please don’t let my daughter be a Slytherin. Please change her.” I didn’t want her to tell anyone else about her House. I talked about it with her counselor. I wrote former babysitters and asked them to tell me if it was possible for a good Christian girl to also be a Slytherin. They were not encouraging.

I know it doesn’t matter. I know this arbitrary label from a website about a young adult fiction series doesn’t matter. What matters is my daughter. 

My job as a mom is to make an unconditionally loving home for my kids, regardless of their House. That means creating a refuge so vibrant that all the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws and Slytherins who enter are sure I’m in the same House as them. How did I forget that?

I needed to fix that right away.

I ran upstairs and opened her door quietly. She lay in the dark with her hair in a messy topknot and Twenty One Pilots blasting on her nightstand. I silently crawled on the bed and lay next to her. I reached for her hand and held it tight. I whispered, “Thank you, God, for my Slytherin daughter.”

I’m not sure if she heard me and pretended to stay asleep, or if the conversation was just between me and my daughter’s creator. Either way, it was a turning point. A first step. I stayed silent next to my daughter a long time, smiling in the dark.

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via ilovehdwallpapers.com

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Aimee Fritz is a Firstborn, INFJ, Ennegram 4, Melancholic, in the House of Gryffindor. She delights in telling long, true tales about everyday absurdities in her suburban life. Read more of her stories about world changers, souls, and big mistakes at familycompassionfocus.com

© Aimee Fritz & Family Compassion Focus, 2016.

Our 2017 Family Compassion Focus

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I finished 2016 bone weary.

After several weeks of intentionally wringing joy, welcome, service, compassion, and celebration out of our days I was exhausted. We hosted 4 big parties, 7 family members for 8 days, Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and New Years Eve. We deepened a lot of relationships and reignited our vision as a family. We laughed, vacuumed, and ate a lot. It was totally worth it. On the way to school the morning after we hosted 18 people from my husband’s work team for dinner, my kid prayed, “Thank you, God, that we could have a party in our house last night. Thank you that everyone seemed happy and had fun. Thank you that we are getting back to normal. I like it. Amen.“

Amen. I liked it, too. But I could not imagine summoning the meal prep, parenting expertise, negotiating tactics, spiritual soft-heartedness, and joy necessary for one more day. 2017 loomed large and daunting.

This is our 7th year choosing a Family Compassion Focus. It’s become our tradition, our habit, our liturgy of the New Year. Thankfully the kids seemed more into it than ever. No one complained or made fun of it. Greta wanted to plan the meal. Caleb wanted to plan the cake. Zoë wanted to make sure we had markers for Word of the Year. Their enthusiasm lured me back in.

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After Christmas we put 3 pieces of paper on the fridge. Greta wrote in her flowing, fledgling cursive:

  • What makes you sad?
  • What do you love to do?
  • What part of the world intrigues you?

Please note that my 12 year son said AnFARTica intrigued him. He totally cracked himself up with this. His own gas is totally hilarious to him.

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The days between Christmas and New Years I asked everyone to put at least 2 things on each piece of paper. They didn’t have to hurry and do it that second, but it had to be done before New Year’s Eve. It’s interesting how this changes the tone in the kitchen. There are still fights, rolled eyes, and spilled cereal, but there are also deep questions and big ideas floating around.

I was too tired to make a big production for our big New Year’s Day dinner, which I normally love to do. So I declared we would be eating some of the 6 pounds of homemade carnitas we had left over from the New Years Eve party. Greta (and Chris) made homemade guacamole and cut out star chips from tortillas.

We gathered around the table and started our time with The Questions. I change 2/5 of them every year. Even though the kids get too loud, and talk over each other, and I still always try to edit and shape their answers, we somehow grow in trust and creativity as a family. I love it how we all get more into it each year.

I write the questions in advance and put everyone’s initials under the questions. I fill them in as people answer. The kids get a big kick out of re-visiting the answers later in the year. Here were our 1/1/17 questions:

  1. Which One of the Seven Natural Wonders of the World were you like in 2016?
  2. What’s the Favorite Place you visited in 2016?
  3. Who is the Favorite New Person you met in 2016?
  4. What’s your Favorite Book of 2016?
  5. What’s 1 New Thing you Learned in 2016?
  6. What 1 Moment would you like to repeat in 2016?
  7. What 1 Moment would you like to erase from 2016?
  8. What helped you get through your hardest day of 2016?
  9. Where do you want to go in Georgia in 2017?
  10. What food do you want to try in 2017?
  11. What book character do you want to be like in 2017?
  12. What is your Word of the Year for 2017?

Highlights: Chris said he’s like the Northern Lights “because I’m hard to pin down.” Greta said her her favorite person was Mrs. Redahan, her 3rd grade teacher. Caleb’s favorite book was something he pulled off his dad’s airplane reading shelf called Off Armageddon Reef (I have to say it sounds LAME). Zoë learned that “music is a lot better than I thought it was” (thanks Twenty One Pilots and Hamilton). Let the record show that one of my children said the thing that helped them on their worst day was “Mama.” And even though Greta tried pizza for the first time in 2016 and HATED it, she wants to try shrimp in 2017.

We cleared the dinner dishes and got out the New Year’s birthday cake. Caleb wanted the cake to say “COME AT ME, BRO” but I was afraid to invite a fight, as depleted as I felt. Greta suggested we all try to slay our dragons. This was our 2017 Cake:

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SLAY YOUR DRAGONS IN 2017

We sang happy birthday to the year, passed out cake and the rest of the homemade candy cane ice-cream my dad made when he was visiting. Then we dove in to the Family Compassion Focus discussion.

It must be hard being the children of an MBA Dad and former Change Management consultant mom. We had the fridge questions taped on the china cabinet, markers in the middle of the table, pens and index cards on hand, and 2 people co-facilitating the discussion. Let’s get to work, people.

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Everyone shared what made them sad, what they loved to do, and what part of the world intrigued them. We asked probing questions. We insisted there were no wrong answers. We tried to listen without interrupting. Kids jumped up and added more ideas and arrows (Caleb added Farting to the “what do you love to do” list, of course). We talked about the outlier responses and the commonalities. We looked for themes (besides flatulence).

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Chris and I noticed something felt different this year. We all still love to do very different things (baking, running, snuggling/”sleep hugging”, talking). We are intrigued by people from all over the world (India, Japan, Southeastern US). But we didn’t have a lot of new ideas. Chris wondered aloud if that might be because we didn’t feel like we were quite done with what we started in 2016. We agreed that it did seem that way.

We are all still saddened by:

  • loneliness, feeling alone
  • war
  • fighting
  • bullies
  • refugees

We loved working with Refuge Coffee Co. and Habitat for Humanity in 2016. We were all sad about that being over. Chris suggested we go for a broader focus in 2017. [In the past we’ve done Haiti (2010, 2015), Orphans (2012), Clean Water (2013), Homelessness (2014), and Georgia (2016).] For our 7th year he suggested CREATE REFUGE be our actual compassion focus.

Everyone was ready to go with that right there, but Daddy made us all vote for our top 3. One index card had the same thing written 3 times, another included farting. In the end

CREATE REFUGE won as our official 2017 FAMILY COMPASSION FOCUS.

The five of us will all lead five different ways of living that out this year. Greta and I want to keep learning and growing with Refuge Coffee Co. Greta also wants to help abused animals. Caleb wants to help build a house with Habitat for Humanity with Chris. We all want to learn how to create refuge for our little neighborhood and for each other (“like, maybe you could stop yelling, mom?”).

We are excited. In fact, Greta and I went down to Refuge Coffee Co. yesterday because she wanted to tell Kitti Murray (the founder of Refuge and G’s BFF/crush) in person that “we were going to keep creating refuge in 2017.” 

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This is what Greta looked like when she told Kitti we wanted to keep focusing on Creating Refuge in 2017. They are holding hands. Kitti said, “I’m so glad you’re not done with us.” 🙂

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Team Fritz has totally run with Refuge Coffee’s hashtag #CREATEREFUGE.

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Kitti and G at Refuge Coffee Co. in Clarkson, GA, 1/3/17.

Okay, so when you read this are you like, “Omigosh! That seems like so much work! We could never do that! I don’t want to do that. Good luck Fritzes, but I’m out!”

If so, I understand.

I’m tired a lot (so much that I got a lot of medical testing done at the end of 2016), but don’t let that fool you. It’s so worth it. Please consider trying something like this in your home. You and your roommate/husband/parents/kid could put post-its on the bathroom mirror, or print out this free download (Family Compassion Fridge Worksheets mops) to get a conversation going. You could chat about it in the car or at breakfast. You don’t have to do a grand meal and 2 hour conversation, that’s just what ours became this year with older kids and our 7th time doing this. This is definitely a time to remember my perfectionism-busting mantra:

Better a little bit, and late, than nothing, never. 

I hope you’ll try your own version of this and let me know how it goes. If you have any questions, please ask away in the comments below.

More resources and background for you:

Coming Soon:

  • Team Fritz 2017 Words of the Year
  • 2016 Lessons Learned in Compassion

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You are loved.

©Aimee Fritz & Family Compassion Focus, 2017.

Comparison Game

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My first job out of college was at a Chicago homeless shelter. They provided drop-in services on cold winter nights and a year-round residential program for recovering homeless addicts. I did donor relations and lived in a crowded apartment above the shelter. I was invited to hang out with the residents whenever I wanted, including daily breakfast downstairs before work.

Every morning, 13 residents would get up from the tables to form a circle in the warm cloud of Cook Lula’s spicy potatoes and onions. The tallest resident would boom, “Hook up the cables! I need a jump start!” We joined hands and closed our eyes.

They thanked God for their warm beds and the roof over their heads. They thanked God for Mr. Jay and Mr. Brian teaching them how to stay clean and get jobs. Then one morning one man earnestly prayed, “I thank you, God, for the use of all my limbs.” Everyone nodded, murmured, and moaned their agreement.

Never, ever in my life had I passionately thanked God for the use of all of my limbs.

I never prayed for myself in those circles, or thanked God for things he gave me. The residents wouldn’t be able to relate. They once asked me to give a devotional and I couldn’t think of one story from my life that would resonate with recovering homeless addicts.

Just a half hour before I pulled out my cute journal and listed things I was thankful for: my new Coach purse, my new hot and funny boyfriend, my rent-free apartment, and my upcoming flight back home to Connecticut for Christmas. My bed, roof, employer, and limbs were a given.

One afternoon I walked the eight blocks straight down Madison Street to the train station. I was a regular on the street now, but some of the homeless I didn’t know still called out “Well looky here, we’ve got Miss Illinois walking down our street. [whistle] Got any spare change, darlin’?”

On the train I prayed another prayer I could never say in front of the residents: “Thank you, God, that I’m not homeless. Thank you that I don’t have to ask strangers for money. Thank you that I have all my teeth. Thank you that I don’t have drug addictions. Thank you that I’ve never had to sell my body for a place to sleep.”

Essentially, “Thank you, God, that I’m not like them.”

My gratitude was fueled by comparison to other people. If I was winning, I was grateful.

I still do this on bad days. When I see a mom pushing her shrieking child in a wheelchair, or listen to my friend’s tragic divorce story, or read another status update about someone dying of cancer, I reflexively pray, “Thank you God, that I’m not like them.”

On worse days I can’t be grateful at all. When my kids are left out, my chronic pain is unbearable, and my new wrinkles get deeper, I get angry at God. I’m ashamed to admit that I sometimes crawl out of this by thanking God my kid is not at the very bottom of the totem pole, or that I do have the use of all of my limbs, or that I don’t need botox yet. For a few minutes I’m relieved I’m winning again.

Most of the time I can accept that I’m always losing some comparison game. It’s very healing. Losing leads me to compassion instead of competition. It leads me to amazed gratefulness instead of petty anger.

Sometimes at those homeless shelter breakfasts the residents would testify. One woman made contact with her daughter. One man was six months clean. Healing was happening. Applause and gospel laughter filled the room. Half the people shouted “God is Good!” and the other half responded “All the Time!”

All the time. No matter what. Jesus, who preferred to hang out with losers, is right there loving me when I lose. His deep, deep love overwhelms me when I count my blessings and even more when I count my sorrows. God is good, no matter what.

Even if my kids have no friends and never go to a prom. God is still good.

Even if my pain increases and I can’t walk anymore. God is still good.

Even if I look like a plastic surgery before picture. God is still good.

Even if my kids have dozens of life-altering problems. God is still good.

Even if my marriage ends. God is still good.

Even if cancer attacks. God is still good.

This Thanksgiving my family will join hands in a circle and pray. My kids will thank God for our house, their toys, and the people that love them. I will nod and agree. I still probably won’t thank God for the use of all my limbs. But for the first time at Thanksgiving, I will thank God for who he is and remember, that even if the unthinkable happens, he is still good.

*****

Growing in Gratitude

  1.     Consider setting the timer for five minutes and thanking God for “every good and perfect gift” (James 1:17) in your life. Write down everything that brings you joy and then write “thank you, God” after it. No need to get lofty. Warm blankets, the color blue, your favorite Netflix binge, the curl in your toddler’s hair, your favorite jeans. I pray you feel rich in abundant blessings at the end.
  2.     If things feel dark and the heavy, and the holidays are here to make you feel ten times worse, I encourage you to face it. Write down everything that makes you mad, sad, envious, afraid and try some “Even If” prayers:
  • Even if my sister shows up drunk on Thanksgiving. God is still good.
  • Even if my country’s leadership terrifies and offends me. God is still good.
  • Even if I’m alone for New Year’s Eve. God is still good.
  • Even if I lose my job two weeks before Christmas. God is still good.
  • Even if we break up. God is still good.
  1.     If you can only feel better about your life by looking down on someone else, examine that thinking. If your prayers are based in comparison, here are a couple questions:
  • Do you think you’re better than that homeless addict or materialistic skinny mom? Why?
  • Do you think God loves you the same? Why? What evidence do you have for your answer?
  • Do you know anything about the person you’re comparing yourself to? If you’re up for it, consider praying for them, talking to them, and maybe even doing something to serve them.  It will be hard. But it will be worth it.

“Then Jesus told this story to some who had great confidence in their own righteousness and scorned everyone else: ‘Two men went to the Temple to pray. One was a Pharisee, and the other was a despised tax collector. The Pharisee stood by himself and prayed this prayer: ‘I thank you, God, that I am not like other people—cheaters, sinners, adulterers. I’m certainly not like that tax collector! I fast twice a week, and I give you a tenth of my income.’

“But the tax collector stood at a distance and dared not even lift his eyes to heaven as he prayed. Instead, he beat his chest in sorrow, saying, ‘O God, be merciful to me, for I am a sinner.’ I tell you, this sinner, not the Pharisee, returned home justified before God. For those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.” – Luke 18:9-14

Brass Scales via flickr

Brass Scales via flickr

Related Posts:

©Aimee Fritz & Family Compassion Focus, 2016.

Zoe’s Visit to See “Refuge: An Exhibit by Photographer Ezra Millstein”

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This essay was written by my daughter, Zoë Fritz, after spending an evening in Clarkston, Georgia, in October, 2016. 

I got to see Refuge: An Exhibit by Photographer Ezra Millstein on Saturday, October 22. They filled the old Refuge Coffee Company garage with 20″ x 30” photographs. There was Middle Eastern music and food. There were people from many different countries in one room.

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I can’t believe I got to talk with the photographer! Ezra Millstein is the International Photographer for Habitat for Humanity.  I asked him if the parents of the children he wants to take pictures of say “No, you can’t do that.” He said that doesn’t usually happen. He said that kids love the camera and their parents want people to know what they’re going through. He has a 5 month old daughter and wonders if that’s why he’s been taking pictures of so many other daughters around the world.

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Me talking with the photographer, Ezra Millstein.

I really liked the piece with the man looking out his tent towards his old home. I’m sad he lost his home.

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iPhone picture of ©Ezra Millstein’s picture

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I like this picture with this little girl and her dad. It shows how such young people are affected by this time of turmoil and hardship. Such people are called “the lost generation” because of the amount of time they spend wandering, looking for a safe place to call home. They seem so scared, or too young to understand what is happening. Such things are very sad to me. I love small children, and don’t like to hear of any of them harmed.

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iPhone picture of ©Ezra Millstein’s picture

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Refugees in America have become more and more commonplace. Refugees are people who flee their countries of origin, because of terror or conflict in their homes. Remember, almost half of these eleven million people are children under the age of thirteen! (Here is an article my mom found:  https://www.cato.org/blog/refugee-program-accepts-three-syrian-women-children-every-syrian-man )

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© Wall Street Journal

Most of these people come from places like Afghanistan, Syria, Somalia, Sudan, Myanmar, and The Democratic Republic of the Congo. People leave these countries because of terrorism, violence, religious persecution, and war. Some settle down in Clarkston, Georgia (east of Atlanta) where they are welcomed by others who have lives like theirs.

Clarkston has a population of 7,791 people, a good half of which are refugees. This town was called “the most ethnically diverse square mile in the country.“  I’ve visited this place a lot, and it is very fun. Why people consider it a “rough” neighborhood, I have no idea. The people are generally very friendly. You can get food right next to Refuge Coffee Co. at Merhaba Shawarma. I don’t understand why more people don’t go there! Honestly, Manna, the owner, should open up a restaurant near where I live.

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Some organizations that help refugees in my area are Refuge Coffee Company, World Relief Atlanta, New American Pathways, and Friends of Refugees. Refugee Coffee Company gives these people basic job training, a hope, and a future. It helps resettle people who would otherwise be unable to get a job anywhere else. To me, it is the best organization because not only does it help people as a whole (as I’ve described above), they make great drinks. My favorite is the Milk Shaker, because it is basically a non-thick milkshake. It’s a very good drink!

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One of Refuge Coffee’s 2 Trucks. The lines were long because it was so crowded for the Photo Exhibition. Two brand new employees (resettled refugees) were working that night.

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My sister in her new Refuge Coffee beanie drinking the Milk Shaker I was talking about!

Some ways ordinary people can help refugees involve donating money, donating food, clothing, and basic hygiene supplies to organizations. You could volunteer your skills to help make homes for the refugees, you could volunteer your house to help these people in need. You can employ refugees, and host awareness meetings. Most of all, help them fit into a new culture. They need a lot of help if they’re going to become settled in a completely new country! Imagine how you’d feel. You’d be scared, worried, alone. Welcome them into your lives.

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My sister and brother playing chess in the middle of the exhibition.

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Creating refuge means people feel safe and have fun. My brother played bag toss with a kid he never met before.

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I liked talking with this girl playing chess while eating the delicious Middle Eastern food.

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My sister talking to the founder of Refuge Coffee Co, Kitti Murray.

I’m glad I got to go to a place that was really fun with good food and good people. I learned a lot there. And I’d like to go back. I’d like to learn more about the exact circumstances that make people have to flee their homes. It makes me sad.

My parents are trying to figure out how we can help refugees when we live in a town that doesn’t have any. We might invite some refugees over for dinner. We might sell some pallet stars my brother makes and little painted houses my sister is making for a Christmas Market at Refuge Coffee Co. Leon, one of the Refuge Coffee Co. employees we met this summer, is trying to find his 4 children, they all got separated in the the Democratic Republic of Congo. We pray about that almost every morning. Maybe we can help him with the DNA tests and processing fees. We’ll see.

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iPhone picture of ©Ezra Millstein’s picture

Wow. I (Aimee) just love reading Zoë’s reflections on that evening. I learn so much from my kids. I was surprised by the pictures she liked best, and the stats that crush her. Good things are happening in that brain and heart.

I’ve been down to Refuge Coffee Co. five times since we learned about them. And every time I go I feel happier and more hopeful. It’s not just because I got a great drink that wasn’t from Starbucks. I couldn’t articulate why, but Zoë did the night of Ezra’s photo exhibition.

I pulled Greta’s arm to prevent her from crossing the street without checking for traffic. She looked both ways, then at me, and asked, “Mom, are we in a bad neighborhood?“

I looked around at the cracked, sloping sidewalks, dead weeds, empty store fronts, and people that don’t look like they’re from Peachtree City, Georgia. I answered, “No, it’s not a bad neighborhood. It’s just a new neighborhood to us. It’s just different than what we’re used to.“

Zoë said, “I know. It is different. And I like it so much more. Here everyone is so kind and friendly and helpful. It’s not like this where we live.”

As we walked across the street I said, “You’re right. It does feel different here. I wonder if that’s because people here know they need each other? And when everyone knows they need help, everyone’s more willing to give help? I’m not sure. Where we live it’s not socially acceptable to need anyone. We have to act like we have it all together.”

“Yeah. I like it way better down here. Bye, Mom!“ and she ran into the crowd, smiling with a skip in her step.

We were able to get one of Ezra’s prints that night. Once it’s framed and hung, I hope it will remind my daughter that we live in a world where we need each other, that’s is okay to need each other, and that because of God’s great love, we can help each other.

You are loved.

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iPhone picture of photo by ©Ezra Millstein

Related Links:

©Aimee Fritz & Family Compassion Focus, 2016. 

Mary’s Socks – World Changer Wednesday

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Last October we featured World Changer, Mary Reczek. She’s a little girl in Wheaton, Illinois who set a goal to collect 800 socks for SOCKTOBER. But she received 1370(!), and with plenty of October left to go, she upped her goal to 2000(!).

Last year Mary received 2635 pairs of socks for Chicago’s homeless!

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After that, Mary, and her brothers, Charlie, and Sam, went with World Changer Warrior Gayle Bloink several times into the city to feed, clothe, and pray with the homeless there.  The socks lasted almost an entire year.

Because they had so many socks generously donated  last year, they were able to always have socks with them when they brought food on Saturdays. The socks were almost more important than the food!  So many homeless friends have come to hope for socks each week. It is difficult to turn them away.  Mary hated when she would run out on any given week.

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This was during the first delivery of socks last year. Brian was so thankful for a clean, dry pair of socks! He said ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you!'”

So for Mary’s birthday this year she would like to collect **3000 pairs of socks** for Chicago’s homeless by 10/31/16. (Here is a link to send socks asap: mary’s sock drive.)

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Here’s the full story:

Who is Mary?

Mary is 8 years old. She has two older brothers, Charlie and Sam, a cat, and a bearded dragon.  She loves people, is brave (had two open heart surgeries as a baby), and has a tender heart for suffering.  She’s naturally outgoing and has a smile always at the ready.

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What does she like to do?

Mary and her brothers go regularly to Chicago to feed and pray with the homeless. They go more often in the winter because the need seems greater in the bitter cold of the windy city. ***Now Mary is collecting 3000 pairs of socks to personally distribute in the next year.***

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How did she get this idea?

Our family has long had a heart for the homeless. When our oldest two were little (Mary is the youngest) we helped with PADS (a ministry that coordinates local churches providing nightly shelter to the homeless). We would bring food, and when dropping that off, we would help set up the sleeping mats and blankets. We love PADS because it is something you can do with any aged child. Young children (and parents wearing babies) can help assemble lunches, decorate the brown paper bags, set up the sleeping mats and help serve food.

A few of years ago, a friend from church (Gayle) invited our oldest to go with her downtown to feed, and pray with, Chicago’s homeless. This is a a grassroots effort. They just walk around the Loop seeking need. Mary begged to go, and finally on Christmas Eve 2013 she was able! She loved it and goes as often as possible ever since. She sees a lot of “regulars” so knows some of them more personally.

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Why did she choose Socks?

Our friend put out a plea asking for 100 pairs of socks for her homeless friends. When Mary saw that, she wanted to help. We thought we would ask a few friends to contribute, and people did! When the request for the first hundred pairs was quickly met, Mary changed it to 200, and then 800 then 1000, then 2000. This year she’s going for 3000! We’ve found that lots of people are happy to help. Most people who have donated socks have said they are happy to help in this small way. Many notes have said, “If Mary is willing to walk around and distribute, I am happy to donate the socks!”

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Why does she want to do this?

Mary knows how cold her feet get when she is walking around the city – and she has warm socks and waterproof boots. She also has a safe car with heat blasting and a house to come home to with a cozy bed to snuggle in. She has seen them in the winter and knows they are freezing.  Socks are a big deal because if your feet are wet and cold, the rest of your body is, too.

It’s not hard for Mary to be a World Changer because she isn’t thinking about facts and numbers. She is remembering real people that she actually talks to. She is thinking about their cold, wet feet. She loves them because she knows them.

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How do the homeless people in Chicago get the socks?

Mary and her friends are writing notes to go in each pair of socks. They aren’t just going to drive by and toss them out the window. They are going to hand out the socks and look everyone in the eye. They are going to connect.

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Please help Mary get 3000 pairs of socks for the homeless in Chicago by 10/31/16!  

Right now she has 2189 pairs. 811 pairs to go!

Here is the amazon link to send socks directly to Mary.

I will keep you posted on Mary’s final count. It’s going to be great!

Lord, thank you for Mary! You are shaping a tender, strong, beautiful, inspiring World Changer in this 8 year old girl. She is inspiring and teaching us. Please soften our hearts to see and hear the people you put in our paths. Thank you for your mercy and grace. Amen.

If you are reading this post after 10/31/16 and want to love homeless people in your area, Mary and her mom, Gabi, have these ideas:

  1. Volunteer at PADS or other shelters (google “homeless shelter” and your town/county name to get started)
  2. Carry snacks or $5 gift cards with when walking in heavily populated areas.
  3. Carry socks in your car in your car to share.
  4. If you have any old purses, put in some tissue, chapstick, hand wipes, feminine hygiene, and perhaps some beauty items. Keep them in your car to share.
  5. We’ve made these backpack kits: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y6fkyf9UGAE
  6. If you’re crafty, we’ve made three of these sleeping pads over the last 2 years. They are highly sought after, and cost nothing but time: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MQtcpPBJc70
  7. Here is a link to a Chicago church that makes the mat as a group – join them, or start your own group:  http://www.unitedinfaith.org/newlifeforoldbags.html
  8. If you don’t have anything to give, or are just caught unawares, you can always stop and talk with a homeless person.  The vast, overwhelming majority are NOT criminals or dangerous.  Ask them how they are doing.  Hear their story.  If you are able, take them someplace warm for a cup of coffee.

 

Do you know a World Changer?  We’d love to learn from them!  Send me a message in the comments below, or at familycompassionfocus@gmail.com

To read about Mary’s adventures last October you can read Mary1 and Mary 2.

To learn from other World Changers, you can read about the Seversons, Bergers, Farrells, Evans, Powells, and Greta.

To learn how the Family Compassion Focus got started, read Our Story.

To get ideas for how to start your own Family Compassion Focus, read Getting Started. (Remember, it’s never too late and there are a thousand ways to do it.)

You are loved.

©Aimee Fritz & Family Compassion Focus, 2016.

The Stupid Cupcakes

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[featured at The Mudroom 10/20/16]

He found me lying there on the ground, spread eagle in dirty yoga pants, my back brace, and an apron. The TV sounded faint and tinny in the basement where the kids ran and hid when I started yelling.

“What happened, honey? Are you okay?” Chris rushed to my side.

“I can’t do this. Why are we doing this? I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“How many cupcakes did you make today?” he sighed.

Photo by Shellah Brennan via Unsplash

Photo by Shellah Brennan via Unsplash

“264. But I need 300. I miscounted. I have to make more for that damn baseball team. I promised.”

“Why did you promise to make 300 cupcakes? We can’t do that.”

“We’re doing it for ORPHANS! Because God loves orphans! Remember?! They have a crappy life and no parents and big diseases and we can’t even make cupcakes! We suck!”

He pulled me up and hugged me. “Aim. You can’t keep doing this. We don’t have an industrial kitchen. We don’t have a staff. We have a tiny 90 year old kitchen and really intense kids. This is too much.”

I glared at him and ripped open another box of devil’s food cake mix. He left to take off his tie and find the kids.

Why do I always do this?

My friends and family raised their eyebrows and pursed their lips when I announced we were doing a bake sale to help orphaned and imprisoned children in Uganda. Even though the last one was an astounding success ($37,000 for Haiti after the earthquake), no one wanted to endure my preventable breakdown afterwards.

But this time would be easier. I promised. It would just be cupcakes. From a mix. With a few enhancements. Definitely homemade buttercream frosting. And customized decorations. And not $37,000 again. Just $1000 would be fine.

“Wait. You want to raise $1000 from cupcakes?” my husband challenged. please continue reading at The Mudroom

Cupcakes by Rose Davies via Flickr

Cupcakes by Rose Davies via Flickr

Related Posts:

  • If you’d like to know why we even bothered to make over 1000 cupcakes in 2 weeks you can read Our Story. It ended up changing our lives.
  • If you’ve ever been overwhelmed by regular life + the needs of this world, please read Moms – World Changer Wednesday to remember that you are already an compassion expert.

©Aimee Fritz & Family Compassion Focus, 2016.

The Long Family – World Changer Wednesday

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I met Mary Beth years ago. We were both going through soul-crushing infertility. Our friendship was a gift from God in that long, hard season. We kept each other laughing and praying as we shared the absurdities, humiliations, disappointments, and hopes of trying to have babies. We desperately wanted to be mothers. Oh, how I thanked God not to go through all that alone!

If you told us we’d have 6 six between us we would not have believed you.

I love Mary Beth’s frank common sense, strong faith, and contagious humor. You’ll love reading how this led her family to a brand new, exciting, life-changing adventure.

Hi Mary Beth, please tell us about your family!

Carter, 12: Our first born. A miracle because there was a time we thought we would never be able to have children. He is funny, witty and has a heart of gold. He is as wise as an 80 year old man and can make you laugh as hard as you did when you were a kid.

Mary Grace, 10: She has a big swelling heart and is a lover of all babies, animals and grandpas. She hurts when others are hurting and would do anything to make you stop crying (including cry herself). She is loyal, loving and girly and she will tell you the truth whether or not you want to hear it.

Bill: My husband/my rock and indulges all my wild ideas and tempers the ideas that are truly insane. He is a devout Catholic man with a mantra that men must be the spiritual leader of their family and be a reflection of God in the home. He is a great father and is obsessed with coffee and listening to podcasts (ask anyone if they have ever received advice from Bill and they will tell you that he forwarded them a podcast).

Me: It is tough to talk about myself. Bill calls me the heart of the family but I often feel like I fall short of this title. I love being a Mom, I love my faith and for the most part I have a zeal for life. I have been blessed with an amazing family both extended and immediate but have always had an itch inside where God was telling me that I wasn’t quite done being a Mother.

I spent a lot of time since January reflecting on what God was asking from me. We were not blessed with more of our own biological children and I struggled with why I had such a strong yearning and desire to grow in my vocation of motherhood. I guess I simply lacked patience in discerning what God had in store for me. It is now abundantly clear that God was slowly preparing me to open my heart to the possibility of adoption and to welcome into my family our soon to be new 12 year old daughter, Maria Camila.

The Long Family

The Long Family

How is your family showing compassion this year?

This year the Catholic Church is celebrating the Jubilee year of Mercy. Many people in the world are familiar with Pope Francis and the incredible inspiration he has been to the world over the past few years. When he visited Washington last fall I took Mary Grace and Carter to see him speak on the Capitol Lawn. It is an experience that we will never forget. We were literally moved to tears. Because of his visit and this being the year of mercy our family has been reflecting on what this means and what we are being called to do.

The Holy Father said that “Mercy is the very foundation of the Church’s life.  All of her pastoral activity should be caught up in the tenderness she makes present to believers; nothing in her preaching and in her witness to the world can be lacking in mercy.  The Church’s very credibility is seen in how she shows merciful and compassionate love.”  Our family has interpreted that to mean that we need to come outside of ourselves to acknowledge the suffering around us and try to bring compassion to others.

We have found that it can be as simple as visiting our sick neighbor or as hard as hugging my Aunt tightly moments after the love of her life passed away. As a family, however, our most important act of mercy this year will be to welcome our soon-to-be daughter, Maria Camila into our home and make her part of our family.

How did this all happen?!

We did not plan on adopting a child and in a million years and I never imagined us adopting a preteen, but God has a great sense of humor. During the big winter blizzard last January we were virtually trapped in our little section of the neighborhood and crawled through the ice and snow to go to our neighbor’s house for dinner. Anyone who could get there was invited. As we broke bread and shared some laughs I found myself engaging in a fairly serious conversation with my next door neighbor. She began to tell me the story about Kidsave.

The Kidsave Summer Miracles program brings older, harder to place orphans to the United States for the summer so they have a chance to see the world but to also meet a forever family. We eagerly signed up as advocates hoping that we could help give a child a fun summer and find them a home. I don’t think we realized that she would literally turn our lives upside down and help us see that her forever home was with us.

©KidSave

©KidSave

How did you choose your plan of action?

Honestly because Kidsave led us to Maria Camila we did not have to do a lot of work developing a plan of action. Kidsave was (and still is) an incredible blessing. They made everything so easy for us. They continue to support us and help us find the way.

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Why are you doing it?

Ultimately because God is calling us to. We have been so blessed and we know it is our turn to give something back. Maria Camila is a little girl not that different than my daughter Mary Grace. She loves to draw, swim, sing, and have fun. The only difference is that her parents abandoned her when she needed them most. She did nothing wrong, but has no one. It is hard to sleep at night knowing that you could make a difference in this child’s life and give her the same chance that we have given to our own biological children. We could possibly change the entire direction of her life by opening our home.

Carter, M, and Maria Camila

Carter, Mary Grace, and Maria Camila

What’s been the hardest part?

To be truthful it is easy to be selfish. It is much easier to say “I like my world the way it is” and not take this on. It is hard to admit that there are those selfish moments when you think it would be easier to just walk away but it never lasts long. We get back to the drawing board and figure out ways to make this work, to make her part of our family and to get all of that paper work done!

The Long Family before they knew Marie Camila would be their daughter and sister.

The Long Family before they knew Maria Camila would be their daughter and sister.

Do you have any advice for other families?

Yes, don’t forget to ask God what he wants from you. I think we so often pray for what we need and want and forget to find out from God what he has planned for us. Once you have a better idea of what God has in store it is a lot easier to live in peace. I don’t think adoption is for everyone. We each give what we are able to and we each have special talents that we can share. However, I will say this, whatever it is that God is asking you to do, God will not be outdone in his generosity. He will make sure you have the tools, friends and resources you need. I can promise you that.

Summer Miracles 2016

Summer Miracles 2016

How can we join you?

You can join us in praying for Maria Camila. There is long road ahead for her. Before she ever leaves Colombia she must have surgery on her arm (a terrible infection that would never have progressed if she had good medical care). She needs to learn the language and she needs to adjust to life in a family. So do we for that matter. Your prayers are helpful! You can follow the story as well at our blog www.asummermiracle.wordpress.com. Now that we are moving forward with this adoption we have a lot more to tell.

Also, I know there are other families out there who would be perfect as host families for the summer miracles program. Let’s find them. I had no idea this program existed until this past year and I am sure that there are many others who don’t know but would love an opportunity like this to help a child. Maybe you’re one of those families? http://www.kidsave.org/programs/orphan-hosting/

Finally, I have started making candles to raise awareness for older orphan adoption and to raise money for kidsave and for Maria Camila’s transition. Here is the link to read more and order: https://www.etsy.com/shop/CamilasCandles?ref=l2-shopheader-name

Let God’s light shine upon you in all that you do and let’s bring a little bit of that light to others.

Camila's Candles are made with love by the Long Family

Camila’s Candles are made with love by the Long Family

Camila's Candles - you can order some today!

Camila’s Candles – you can order some today!

Thank you, Mary Beth!

Team Fritz bought a few candles and had them shipped to us. They smell terrific and are so well done. I encourage you to buy some, too! They would make excellent additions to the Christmas, and end of year cash gifts you give to teachers, doormen, doctors, house cleaners, mailmen, pastors, etc. Check it out on their Etsy page!

Related Links:

  • An article in the Catholic Herald about the Long Family is here.
  • Read about more World Changers here.
  • Read the Farrell Family’s and Berger Family’s adoption stories here and here.

©Aimee Fritz & Family Compassion Focus, 2016.

Crows

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Once I was held prisoner in my room for 10 weeks. Preterm labor demanded bedrest if I wanted to give my unborn babies a chance. I lived in fear of losing them.

I also lived in fear of crows.

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"Crow on Tree by Oliver Degabrielle via flickr

“Crow on Tree” by Oliver Degabrielle via flickr

Almost every day of my bedrest crows came to haunt me. They curled their talons and straightened their black cloaks on the bare winter branches outside my window. They stared in my room with sinister eyes and cawed menacingly. I trembled. There was no roadkill in my room for them to eat.

Whose death were they waiting for?

Were they circling over the twins I was desperately trying to grow inside my huge belly? Did they think my babies weren’t going to make it? Did they know something I didn’t?

One day I couldn’t take it anymore. I untangled myself from the contraction monitor, subcutaneous terbutaline pump, long white compression socks, and twisted blankets and heaved myself out of bed. I punched at the window with one hand and guarded my babies with the other. “Go away!” I shouted tearfully. “Get out!” They laughed with disdain and flew to the next tree. The neighbor’s dog barked.

My heart raced. I knew they’d be back.

*****

My babies were born and they flourished. But I couldn’t shake the fear of death whenever I saw crows. I didn’t want to see the flattened carcass or droopy pink baby animal near their beaks. I didn’t want to hear their caws and remember the weeks they mocked me.

*****

When we moved to Georgia last year I started running in the woods. I often shared my runs with deer, ducks, sparrows, and happy dogs. Except for the lonely day I was ambushed by crows. When I emerged from the protective canopy of the forest they were waiting for me in a parking lot, spread across five scraggly pine trees. One taunted me. Two of his brothers joined in. Another dropped from the tree and onto my path. I was terrified. With all my spiritual warfare training I shook my fist at them and shouted, “In the name of Jesus, get away from me! I belong to Jesus Christ!” The whole crow family laughed at me and stayed put.

Whose death were they waiting for?

I kept running.

They followed me. A half-mile later, at the top of a hill, all ten crows landed in a nearby tree. They watched me. I thought of Hitchcock’s Birds and Poe’s Raven. With less courage I said, “I belong to Jesus Christ” the same way I say, “excuse me” when walking back to my seat in a crowded movie theater. They cawed in derision and hopped over to the next grove of trees on my route.

I beat my personal record running home.

That evening when I went out to grill on the back porch, forty crows flew over my house and landed intentionally into the thick trees on the edge of my yard. They watched me. I could hardly breathe.

Whose death were they waiting for?

****

Recently I was blindsided by a deep loss. All the ways I knew how to deal with it didn’t help. God felt far.

I set out for a run to temporarily forget about it. A crow called out to me before I put in my headphones. I looked up at the roof, too tired to panic. We looked at each other. He stuck out his beak and chest regally.

Suddenly everything was clear. The crow wasn’t an enemy of mine, or Jesus Christ’s. He wasn’t there to heckle or torment me. He wasn’t a harbinger of death from Satan. Maybe he was a messenger. A messenger from God saying death was near.  

My death.

I always wanted to have children, but wasn’t prepared for the complete destruction that mothering brought to my identity. Those crows out the window during my bedrest were sent to show me that the childless, slender, working-for-a-paycheck version of me was going to die. A new me was coming. They would watch over that death and clean it up for me. I think God sent them to help me, and I missed it.

I always wanted to be obedient to God with a “here I am, send me” attitude. But when He led our family to Georgia I struggled. Everything was exponentially harder than I expected. Those crows in the pine trees were sent to help me see that the well-connected, comfortable, Illinois version of me was going to die. A new me was coming. The crows would take care of that death, too. I think God sent them to comfort me, and I missed it.

The loss I was grieving still felt raw. The old ways of processing and coping were not going to work. This one crow was hoping I would let that morose, dramatic, defeated version of me die. A new me was coming. I think God sent him to teach me, and I didn’t want to miss it.

I stood silent on my sidewalk, holding this brand new understanding of God’s love. His love would not spare me many deaths. He was near and he wanted to make me new. It felt too big to run with. It felt too hopeful to leave behind.

I looked up at the crow again. I recognized his sender. I didn’t feel threatened. I felt safe. I hoped the crow, and God, would join me on my run.

“In the name of Jesus, stay with me. I belong to Jesus Christ.”

****

Get to Know Your Crows:

  1.     How do you feel about death? Does it fascinate or disgust you? Terrify or appeal to you? How does death shape your faith?
  2.     “Memento mori literally means “Remember you must die.” The early Puritan settlers were particularly aware of death and fearful of what it might mean, so a Puritan tombstone will often display a memento mori intended for the living. These death’s-heads or skulls may strike us as ghoulish, but they helped keep the living on the straight and narrow for fear of eternal punishment. In earlier centuries, an educated European might place an actual skull on his desk to keep the idea of death always present in his mind.” – from www.merriam-webster.com How often do you think about death? What kind of symbols would be helpful to you? (For me it’s still crows.)
  3.     You are not the person you were 10 years ago, 5 years ago, 2 years ago. How have you handled the deaths of your own self? How do you know when a new thing, a new you, is ready to emerge? Does God have to wrench the old away from you with a dramatic event? Or do you surrender yourself with trembling hands?
  4.     Halloween Idea: When you see skeletons, coffins, and gravestones in front yards, drug stores, and on TV consider asking God, “Is there something in me that needs to die, Lord? Am I holding on to parts of myself that need to go?” Please make time to hear an answer. Consider sharing your thoughts with a good friend.

 

“’You shall drink from the brook,

and I have commanded the ravens to feed you there.’

So he went and did according to the word of the Lord.

He went and lived by the brook Cherith that is east of the Jordan.

And the ravens brought him bread and meat in the morning,

and bread and meat in the evening,

and he drank from the brook.” – 1 Kings 17:4-6

"Crows Flying" by British Pest Control Association via Flickr

“Crows Flying” by British Pest Control Association via Flickr

[featured on Perissos 10/17/16] 

Related Links:

  • Before this epiphany, I always saw crows as Bullies and associated them with shame.
  • I’ve encountered God often while running in the woods, often I’m Running Away from him.

©Aimee Fritz & Family Compassion Focus, 2016.

No One is the Boss of Us

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You know how to light a match, don’t you?

I looked up at her and lied.

She gave me the book of matches and watched me slowly draw the bud against the scratch. She grabbed it back, You’ve got to go fast, see? Boom! Zip! She laughed and gave me the lit match with her brown wrinkled hands.

Put it in that hole there. See the flames? You just lit the grill! Now you can cook steakettes whenever you want. I confidently dropped the frozen patties from the butcher paper onto the grate.

Little girls aren’t allowed to touch matches.

please continue reading at You Are Here Stories

Matches by Simon D via flickr.com

Matches by Simon D via flickr.com

[This story was featured at  You Are Here Stories 10/11/16.]

Related Posts:

©Aimee Fritz & Family Compassion Focus, 2016.

Jodie Kitchens – World Changer Wednesday

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What if you wake up one morning and realize you’ve been only listening to your brain, and not your heart? What do you do? How do you start something new?

I have come to know Jodie Kitchens through the magic of Facebook and our shared love for Haiti Partners. She is intelligent, passionate, fierce, hard-working, and from what I can tell, inexhaustible! After decades in corporate financial services, she joyfully changed her focus toward active compassion. I love her story. I’d love to hear what resonates with you!

Thank you for being with us, Jodie! Please introduce yourself!

My heart is all about “Helping Families in Crisis While Having Adventures and Learning.”

About 2 ½ years ago, I had my moment. On a hillside near Fort Jacques,in Haiti, I reached my limit and sent my son James and Haiti Partners Director John Engle on up the hill to our original destination of a fort. As I sat, I watched the ants and a lizard go about their day, then I heard church singing waft through from hillside to hillside. Funny what you notice of the world around you and what is in your heart when you are far outside the realm of cell services.

Shortly after sitting down on my rock perch, four young Haitian ladies walked by me and I tried in my best Creole to greet them. I must have faked it at least reasonably as they began a full conversation. I was lost but pulled out my one useful phrase “Mwen pa konprann kreyòl. English?”

Though the girls didn’t speak English, I dug deep for some of my high school French after one of the girls spoke some French. But again, we quickly exhausted my memory.

The young ladies went on their way but shortly after I heard them call after me to sit with them in the shade of the tree. Again, I dug deep for words for arms, eyes, head, ears, as they shared the matching Creole words. Something caught my eye, a book that they young girl named “Love” was holding.  Now remember, I am in an area where houses are beyond modest, and are haphazardly covered by tin roofs. So, to have a book in that area, was an extreme extravagance.

It was an English-French/French-English dictionary, just what we needed to spark a much deeper exchange. So we sat for the next hour or so, practicing phrases like “It’s a beautiful day” in English, French and Creole.

This simple moment, in a place I never expected to go, with new friends I never expected to meet, this moment started my journey. I knew I was meant to be in Haiti and to meet my dear girls. I knew  I was meant for something different than the 30+ years of corporate financial services work I had been focused previously.

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James during our first trip to Haiti – what sparked this all

When did compassion catch your attention? What kicked off your journey? 

Both of my parents were very generous individuals whether it was with coaching, 4-H or patiently sitting through any of the many band and orchestra concerts that goes with 5 kids playing 5 different instruments. It was after my mom’s Dad, Pappy, died that she began to search for meaningful ways to serve, in ways she was not able to with him. This began my parents’ 30-year journey in support of Hospice of Central Pennsylvania. It was in a Hospice supported house that my mother took her last breath, surrounded by family, in a location she helped make happen.