Four Cold Water Bottles

It's Friday morning. Lyla is at a friend's house. I'm supposed to be cleaning my house with these precious, quiet hours but instead I'm sitting here at my kitchen table watching the giant, dead bush separating our yard from our neighbors' get cut down. It was on their property and they wanted to take it out. I don't love change. And I didn't love that bush. But it gave us a certain amount of privacy that felt good. It separated us from them. So I am freaking out a little on the inside, but I can't help but notice how much brighter our backyard is now... 

I've got this song on repeat this morning. I can't believe I didn't know about it before. It's hitting me right in the soul as I watch this bush come down. My heart hurts for people in our city. There are drugs. There's domestic violence. There is poverty. There is pain. There is brokenness. And these are the people I see at the grocery store. These are the people Eric works with at the clinic. These are the families of the babies he's delivered. These are our neighbors and we feel deeply for them. But we also struggle with burnout. It can be frustrating and hard to serve. It gets draining. It often seems pointless and we don't always see positive change. 

We sometimes think we need to do a lot... That we need to help this person beat their addiction or get this baby into a safer home situation. We want the man on the street corner to be able to find work or the woman in a bad relationship to get out. We feel this huge burden for our neighbors and a deep desire to help but it can get overwhelming and paralyzing. 

Maybe it's actually easier to love people than we think... Maybe it starts with four cold water bottles for the guys cutting down the dead bush out back. Or letting someone go first in line at the grocery store. Maybe it's waving at the man around the corner who sits outside his house in his wheelchair watching his dogs. Or teaching the next generation how to love our neighbors and each and every person they see, regardless of our differences...

There is a lot of hurt in our world. There's a lot of hurt in this country. There is a lot of hurt in Muncie, Indiana. There's even a lot of hurt in our little neighborhood. But there's actually a lot we can do about it. We just need to open our eyes to the wounds and let a little light in. 

I'm still sitting here at my kitchen table, but now there are tears streaming down my face as I see the four guys sitting in the shade taking a breather with said water bottles. I'm praying that God keeps showing us simple ways we can love. We can't always fix the deep wounds... We often don't even know what they are... But we can offer rest. A moment of peace. A cool drink of water. 

The dead bush is gone. There's no longer a mess of branches and leaves and twigs to separate us from our neighbors. A barrier has literally been broken down. What. A. Gift. What a beautiful opportunity to get to know them... To share and to love. There's already more light out back and I have a feeling it's just going to get brighter. 

Scared

This morning we were rushing to get ready for church. Last night I was up way too late, struggling a bit with the midnight noises and a wandering, anxious mind. So I slept in way late... So late, in fact, that Eric had managed to drive and get gas, mow the yard, and finish the mulching. All before I got up. #rockstarhusband

So, we were getting ready for church and Lyla was hanging out in the bathroom with us so that we could supervise and avoid such things as coloring on the walls and peeing on the floor. I pulled out my blow dryer and explained to her that I was going to do my hair and that it would be loud. Her eyes got as huge as her Saturday morning pink sprinkle donuts and she said " scared". And my heart sank a little bit. As far as I can remember, we haven't really talked much with her about fear or being scared of things, but somehow she already knew to be anxious. 

I worry about this on a somewhat regular basis... Passing this anxiety, that I am so prone to experiencing, on to my little girl. Ironic, I know... Truth is, I never knew anxiety quite like I did after she was born... When the worries and fears seemed endless and the dark nights long, accompanied by a pounding heart and terrifying dreams. But here we are, coming up on her second birthday, and I can honestly say, I'M NO LONGER A SLAVE TO FEAR.

This does not mean I never get anxious. It doesn't mean I don't sometimes have long nights where I feel helpless to protect the ones I love. It doesn't mean that there aren't legitimate things in thing in this world that are scary. But by God's grace (and with a little help from some meds) it means that I can cope with the things that used to keep me up at night... That I can think clearly enough to pray for peace and protection... That I notice those things that trigger my fear and I choose to avoid them... That I can teach Lyla how to fight against the anxiety that very well might threaten to take her captive, too. 

Right now there are a lot of people in our world who want us to fear. Politicians. The media. Terrorists. It seems almost everyone has something to gain from our fear and it often feels like there's nothing to do but to give in to it. But there is such a beautiful freedom in the peace of Christ... The knowledge that nothing in this life can keep us away from Him... That there is no pain or sorrow in this world that heaven cannot redeem... Knowing that we do not have to live in fear of man, disease, heartbreak or hair dryers. 

We have a great Protector who takes good care of His children. And He will heal our hearts when this world does manage to break them. Fear does not own us. We can rest easy in the beautiful peace found in Jesus. So, friends, sleep well tonight. Know that you are deeply loved and fiercely cared for. It's a new week filled with it's own new challenges and anxieties. Let's be covered by grace and walk ahead confident that whatever happens, it's going to be alright. 

Sarah

PS: This morning in church, after Lyla's moment of "scared" in the bathroom, we sang this song. How fitting. And this second one... Well, it just fills me with hope for the times when our hearts do break and the pain of this world seems all too powerful. Be encouraged. 

Love and Kindness

A year ago we moved. Again. This was number five for us in our five years of marriage. It didn't make practical or financial sense. But we did it. We left downtown Des Moines for the suburbs, knowing full well that we would most likely be moving again the following summer. We traded a third-floor apartment on a busy street for a townhouse that opened right up to the yard and parking lot. It wasn't perfect, but there was fresh air, slower cars and fewer drugs (as far as we knew...) It was refreshing and it turned out to be a really good choice for our family.

We quickly met our neighbors and worked on building relationships. We soon learned that there were A LOT of kids in the neighborhood and they were on their own after school... Free to roam and play and, sometimes, get into trouble. Our next door neighbor kids became an added part of our little family for a few months before they themselves moved away. They would come over after school and tell us about their days. They'd stop by if they were bored or come in for a snack. They'd play with Lyla and they loved taking Scout out on walks. We spent many, many hours with them. We talked A LOT... Er, THEY talked a lot. We mostly listened. It wasn't always easy (see last post Re: love is vulnerable...) but I have fond memories of those sweet kids. And I miss them. A lot.

There is a point to this story, I promise. And, yes, it does have to do with the recent terrible news that just keeps on coming. It is sometimes hard to know what we can do to make the world a better place for all people. And especially better, and safer, for individuals in the Black community. What can I, as a middle-class-white-stay-at-home-mom, really do to fight injustice and promote peace and reconciliation? I spend most of my days at home, with a little girl who has no idea the craziness happening in her country and in the world.

But then I remember those kids who used to come over all the time... And I realize that, right there... That is a little part of the answer. It is raising our own children to love others... ALL others. It's showing our little ones, and their friends, that, despite our different skin colors and backgrounds, we are all loved by God and equally deserving of kindness (not to mention equally deserving of life itself...)

Please hear me when I say this: I DO NOT HAVE IT ALL FIGURED OUT. I am not AT ALL trying to brag or fish for praise. I certainly don't get it right all of the time, and am in need of enormous amounts of grace. I still struggle to figure out how I fit in this greater mission to create a safer society for our minority friends. In this case, we were blessed with a unique opportunity to love on some great kids and we took it. There are countless other opportunities that we miss. We cannot do it all.

But we can live in a way that demonstrates what it looks like to love each other.

It looks like pizza parties and movie nights... Water play and making messes... It's building forts and cleaning them up... It looks like an open door and a safe space to talk about middle school strife and at-home stress... It's loving someone else's kids as if they're your own and modeling for the future generations kindness and respect.

That is what this middle-class-white-stay-at-home-mom can do.

Sarah