Mission Impossible
Ah yes, the old Mission Impossible theme song. Remember when actor Peter Graves would get the instructions for his next mission from a tape recorder and off he went with his team and all their gadgets conquering evil? The voice on the recorder always told him, "Here is your mission, should you decide to accept it." He always had the option, no one forced him. But think of all we would have missed if every week he opted to ignore his mission. Hmm...
Grapefruit Sorbet
I was minding my own business waiting at the deli counter for my lunch meat. A mom next to me had two small children with her. They were getting a little antsy waiting so the mom said to her daughter, "Honey, go over to the refrigerated section and get me some grapefruit juice and we'll make grapefruit sorbet when we get home." Grapefruit sorbet? On a good day, I might have let my kids put some Kool-Aid in ice cube trays but never something so healthy and glamorous sounding. For a brief second the thought went through my mind, that maybe I had short changed my kids. Maybe I didn't do all I could have done. Now mind you, my children are twenty-six, twenty-three, and eighteen, living productive lives in spite of the fact that they never made grapefruit sorbet with me. Then I actually was feeling angry at this mom. What's the point of grapefruit sorbet anyway? Isn't a Popsicle good enough? Hmm...
Tootsie Pop Theology
Having athletes in the family, I've spent many hours in the gym. And many dollars at the concession stands. My treat of choice? The Tootsie Pop. It lasts through at least a quarter of a basketball game if you lick and don't bite. Red is my favorite. Why do they even make the brown ones? Anyway, regardless of the color, it's really the soft, chocolaty middle that is the best. You have to work through the hard shell to get to the real goodness: the essence of the Tootsie Pop. Hmm...
The Diet Starts Monday
My friend Patty has fond memories of her visits to Grandma Elinor's. Each visit included boat rides, yard games, new coloring books, and of course, food! Lots and lots of food! Plates of cruellers for breakfast, homemade soups and bread for lunch, and a feast for dinner. And always pie, pie, pie with every meal. Not just one slice, often two. Grandma Elinor's mantra was always, "The Diet Starts Monday." Putting off for later what is truly beneficial, for fleeting pleasures now. Hmm...
Growing Pains
Isn't it funny how smells can trigger memories? Like when I smell incense in church, I'm immediately back in grade school. Or when I smell leaves burning I'm back in my old Chicago neighborhood trick-or-treating. The other day I had a really strange triggered memory. I was at a restaurant and I got a whiff of root beer, and before you knew it I was 7 years old laying in my bed calling to my mom. "Mom, I have growing pains." (It was really a charley horse in my calf but we called them growing pains.) She would come in my room with this brown bottle she bought from the Watkins man and it smelled like root beer. She would massage my calves with the root-beer-smelling potion and the growing pains would disappear. I felt so loved after my mom left the room. Hmm...
Mr. Rogers
I have to admit, even after my kids were in school full days, I would still sit down with a sandwich and turn on Mr. Rogers at 12:30. If everyone were like Fred Rogers, what a wonderful world this would be. OK, I know some of you weren't as enamored with him. He was one of those - either you loved him or couldn't stand him. I personally wanted to live in his neighborhood. It was so radically different than the world we live in. Think about it, he only owned six sweaters and a pair of tennies. Modest furnishings, basic craft supplies, none of those sparkly markers and glow-in-the-dark paints. His friends were just simple, down-to-earth people. Yet, he lived such a content and peaceful life there in the neighborhood. Hmm...
Why Squirrels Can’t Do Math
I'm not a big fan of magic shows. No, it's not that the magicians are usually kind of creepy looking or that their assistants don't wear enough clothes. It's that I can't stand not knowing how they do that stuff. I get frustrated because I can't make sense of what they do, or how they do it. I have so many questions that can't be answered. It's all a mystery and I don't like mystery. I like to be able to understand. Hmm...
Pizza on China
For years now, I have been getting together monthly with four dear old friends for what we call Fun Club. It’s just so darn fun. We meet on a Friday night, taking turns at each other’s houses. The best part of Fun Club is that you don’t have to dress up or fuss with even trying to look presentable. Most of the time we just come in whatever we have been wearing all day. The only fussing I do is to throw some slippers in a bag to change into. We keep the menu very simple. Most of the time it’s pizza on paper plates, double chocolate malted milk balls, and lots of wine. I told you it was fun! But last Friday’s Fun Club was different. When I got to Deb’s house, the dining room table was set with heirloom china, crystal, and silverware along with linen napkins. I could still smell pizza so I knew I was in the right place but was thrown off by the ambiance. When we sat down to eat, Deb told us an amazing story. During her prayer time that morning, she heard the following and wrote it down. They are my daughters who deserve the finest china and linens in the house. Praise be to God for the love union of these women whom I call daughters. I love you. Later that day she had a strong sense of her deceased grandma’s presence as she was driving in her car. She was reminded of the china, crystal, and silverware that was gifted to her by her grandma, and collecting dust in her china cabinet. Then, randomly her mom phoned from Arizona and when Deb mentioned she was having Fun Club that night, her mom said,”You should use your nice china, crystal, and silverware.” It became clear to Deb that this Fun Club was destined to be a memorable one. If you have been following my blogs the last few weeks, you know that at Well Time on Wednesday mornings at Firstfruits we have been talking about our identity as the Beloved of God. We have been inspired by Henri Nouwen’s book Life of the Beloved to learn all we can about how to become the Beloved. The first couple chapters remind us that to really become the Beloved, to feel that truth to the core and reflect it in our words, attitudes, and actions we have to become more aware of how...
Chosen
It seems like yesterday, middle school gym class at St. Mary of the Woods grade school in Edgebrook, Illinois. We were picking teams for a game of basketball and, as always, I was picked last. No one ever appreciated the 4’5”, 80lb powerhouse I was. I wasn’t chosen. Have you ever not been chosen for something? Not a good feeling. But I’m here this week to tell, all you unchosen, some really good news. It comes from the same book I talked about last week, The Life of the Beloved by Henri Nouwen. As I mentioned last week, Nouwen wants us to believe in our Belovedness. The core truth of our existence is that we are the Beloved of God. The world tries to tell us otherwise. We have to ignore those voices that tell us we are worthless or unloveable and remind ourselves that we are the Beloved. Nouwen goes on to say that we are to become the Beloved, not just use it as an adjective. We need to believe it and let that truth filter into our words , actions, and attitudes. That is when we will change and we can then affect a change in others. The greatest gift we can give another is the gift of their Belovedness. So how do we become the Beloved? How do we get that truth so deeply embedded in ourselves that it makes a difference? The rest of the book deals with the four movements of the Holy Spirit that are continually at work in our lives to help us realize our Belovedness. They are described as Taken, Blessed, Broken, and Given. This week I want to talk about Taken, or maybe a softer word for it would be Chosen. In order to really believe the truth of our Belovedness, we need to believe we are God’s chosen ones. Already, I feel a slightly sick, angry feeling in the pit of my stomach. Flashbacks of gym class filling my head. The worldly notion of chosen means when someone is chosen that means someone else isn’t. Someone else is excluded or rejected. In the world of God’s chosen it’s quite the opposite. To be chosen of God does not mean others are rejected. It includes others, accepts others. It is not a competitive choice; it is a compassionate choice. All are chosen. Before we were even knit in our mothers wombs, we were chosen by the eyes of...
Who Are You?
What does it mean to be the Beloved? This was our topic at Well Time at Firstfruits this past Wednesday morning. We looked up the definition of beloved and it said, "greatly loved; dear to the heart." One of the women in the group said that word has never been in her vocabulary. Probably quite a few of us could say the same thing. It’s not a word we would regularly use to describe ourselves, although we should. Henri Nouwen in his book The Life of the Beloved states that the reality of being the Beloved is the core truth of our existence. There is no better or more accurate way to describe our identity. We are, above all else, the Beloved of God. So why is that title so foreign and uncomfortable for us? I think it’s because it’s just too hard to believe. Nouwen goes on to say that the greatest trap in our lives is self-rejection. We so easily fall victim to the voices that tell us what we aren’t, those voices that remind us how often we fall short and screw up. And convince us that everyone else is doing just fine. He sums it up when he says “Self-rejection is the greatest enemy of the spiritual life because it contradicts the sacred voice that calls us the Beloved.” Do you hear that voice? It’s a gentle voice and comes to us in countless ways. People that have taught us, cared for us, or encouraged us. Simple, tender moments with those we love. The rush of joy or momentary deep sense of well-being that floods through us unexpectedly. We need to listen more carefully. Nouwen says, “Every time you listen with great attentiveness to the voice that calls you the Beloved, you will discover within yourself a desire to hear that voice longer and more deeply. It is like discovering a well in the desert.” If we can become the Beloved, if we can believe and let that knowledge really sink into our every day words and actions, think how different life would be. None of the world’s voices could touch us. We would be free to live and love abundantly and with great joy. And be able to give the greatest gift of all to others, the gift of their Belovedness. This week I challenge you as I challenge myself to claim the truth that you are the Beloved. Broaden your vocabulary! Joan...