Honoring Life

**This post was first written prior to the new year and feels more befitting now, as we remember the atrocities of the Holocaust, face the disservice and discriminatory courses being set under this new presidency, and continue to battle each other over who is really fighting for justice.

I've watched this from childhood and firsthand: honor without accountability distorts the truth. We all see it. Privilege that separates destroys us. Disgrace abounds among public figures. Life after "admired life" is cut short because the limelight burns too close. How many families of every sphere are destroyed by the abuse of power and addiction to esteem?

On Facebook today, I warned about treating our leaders like idols. I specified those in uniform because of the relativity to some of my own experiences. However, we must watch how we show respect to any leader, be they soldier, preacher, actor, teacher, politician. Whether highly visible or not, when someone is given the responsibility of a role, a title, a uniform, we must not place them on a pedestal.  Set them up on a ledge, we set them up for a fall.

These people are people. Like you, like me, with purpose and potential, they are still broken, messy, flawed, prideful people. By holding them too high, at arms length, we isolate them and leave them to their own defenses, distorting their place in the community. We dishonor them. Want to give what you believe is due them? Then, more than hollow recognition, give them your friendship. Work alongside them, to thank them, hear them, care for them, pray for them. Hold them accountable, but never out of reach. Follow, but never blindly.

Another distortion is disregard. Countless leaders (like the common person and the destitute) will never get recognition in pay or with publicity, but they're no less worthy of respect. There are those in our families, at our workplaces and on our streets whose existence we distort by our indifference. Enacting outright discrimination is a problem that goes unsaid. No, we must consider the disparity of when the only lives shown sincere regard are the ones in blue, the ones in the womb or the ones that look just like me or you. Call apathy its mother. Such an aberration ignites terror, war, genocide!

Be not a respecter of persons but respect life itself. Every life. Be mindful of yourself and open up. Fight every prejudice within. Stop drawing dividing lines with your words and attitudes. Every good cause can embolden the next. Mourn those who die alone, grieve the forgotten. Listen to the broken-hearted as well as the enraged. They're the same. Notice someone you have never noticed. I repeat, thank them, hear them, care for, support and befriend them as you do your leaders and those revered by the masses.

This kind of honor is the pedestal. In its proper place, it will serve as a foundation for all of society, all of humanity to be built on. Then, all that is living might have a chance to flourish.

Life is a gift that belongs to all. Honor it by honoring all.

harmony in day nine

monday, a sweet friend brought dinner and dessert to us. help for this bed rest stretch. not only were we fed, but the prepared meal freed kenn to play with our kids before we ate.  he had them outside, riding bikes on the sidewalk, shooting hoops by the window where i sat watching.  before long, a bunch of children of all ages gathered, mingling in game and chatter. 

when my friend arrived, one of her first comments was something like, "i see you've got my peoples up in these parts!" we agreed that we do but didn't really express how deeply we enjoy that fact.  i've been thinking about it since, about a certain balance "her people" bring as one minority among others on our street.  it's a privilege to be living where it's so colorful (in more ways than one), and it's in "mixed" company that i've always been more at home.

there's harmony in the motley.  the Creator delights in it.  he alone fashioned it.  and this life is so rich because of the diversity of beauty in him and all he has made.  i wish we'd all purpose to hold firmly to these glimpses of Paradise restored, and confess: our differences reflect the perfection of heaven.

the golden rule

our stroller went missing recently. it was in pretty poor condition, but it was a double-seater for jogging and we used it a lot. our oldest noticed it was gone one day while a few kids from around the corner were out back. he said he'd seen a couple of them with it, so i told them all to go retrieve it. pretty brazen, i thought, to let themselves into our backyard and then take something. they barely know us.

after a couple of minutes and no sign of the kids, i decided to see what happened. i rounded the corner to find them looking a bit bewildered. no stroller. as i crossed the street asking where it was, they all began their tales. I wasn't outside, SHE was . . . NO! I was in the bathtub . . . NO, I WAS in the tub. . . well actually, I WAS the only one inside . . . then i realized the stroller wasn't taken that hour nor that day but the night before. they had removed it from our yard, left it somewhere on the sidewalk, and now it was gone.

let's just say, i was not pleased.

rewind to the night before. these same kids were racing back and forth with streams of tape pulled from a video they'd broken. our son was riding his scooter as they played and it seems at some point they started chasing him with the tape. he probably thought it was fun, until one boy wrapped the tape around his neck and wouldn't let go. our son hit him in the side to get the boy to release him. then he came home, clearly shaken.

after getting the story, kenn took our oldest back outside and made him apologize. kenn also gave a good talk to the crew of them about playing nicely. i saw from the window that it took some repeating and added sternness for the other kids to even give an ear. then, on his own, the boy who had hurt ours decided to apologize, too. breakthrough! his sister (a second-grader, mind you) actually got mad at kenn, thinking he'd forced her brother to say sorry. kenn calmly set her straight.

back to the day of the stroller. knowing it was taken in the night and i could do nothing about its whereabouts, i took a breath. what do i do now? i almost went to the kids' house to report their crime. i asked who was watching them and one said it was their mom. she was sleeping. sleeping!? i thought. her kids are running the streets and she sleeps? then something happened in me. i know now it was the Spirit within showing me what i almost missed. three precious children.

with my anger dissolving, i told them it didn't matter who took it and addressed the behavior instead. the older ones stared blankly when i asked them how they'd feel if i walked into their house and took something of theirs. so i posed the same to the youngest, who can't be more than 5. with a lisp he said, "sad!" and my heart broke a little more. then i laid down the rule. from now on, if they'd like to go in the backyard or use something of ours, they just need permission. immediately, they asked to use our basketball hoop - the one they'd already pulled from the yard moments before i had them searching for the stroller.

what else could i do? i said okay, and they skipped across the street with me in tow. i let them in our yard. i let them use the toys. and i felt really free.

that night at dinner, kenn read these upside-down commands of Jesus from Luke 6:

but i tell you who hear me: love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you. if someone strikes you on one cheek, turn to him the other also. if someone takes your cloak, do not stop him from taking your tunic. give to everyone who asks you, and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back. do to others as you would have them do to you.

prayer and a life sentence

this week, a young man was sentenced to 68 years in prison. four years ago, he took another man's life. now he'll likely spend the rest of his locked up. he murdered a man from our town, one who's brother is an acquaintance of ours, a committed community leader and a pastor of a nearby church.

i read the story online, watched a video taken at the sentencing, and began to pray. first for his fianceé and the ones closest to him. for our pastor friend and all the "victims" of this crime. even for others involved in the proceedings. finally, i looked at the face of this convicted man (barely a man, really) and then was my spirit overwhelmed. i pondered what a life he faces, the life he ultimately chose, and i could not help but weep for him. within seconds, i was wishing i could stand beside him, a friend ready to walk with him, no matter his demeanor, conscience or plea.

the more common reactions from any one of us could likely be a shrugging off of such tragedy as all-too-common, a ranting of opinions on how the case was handled, or maybe a shaking of heads in prideful pity thinking we could never be so evil. perhaps we're burdened for the ones who lost their loved one in this dreadful way. or God forgive us, we may even vengefully delight in this young man's demise.

i believe what happened in me had much to do with prayer. i brought my thoughts and feelings into conversation with God and my mourning came, my deepest compassion flowed for the criminal. prayer can do this. not like magic. prayer isn't a game or trick or formula for getting our wishes. when we truly practice prayer, we let ourselves receive God's dreams and understand his passions, even while bringing ourselves before him. choosing to pray this way is yielding, it's placing ourselves at God's mercy. full of mercy that he is, we find that mercy flowing for us. and one day, it overflows to others.

if you're feeling the need for kindness or really want a different heart, try more prayer. give a little more time and grant the Spirit a little more space. into the most empty (emptied) places, the most mercy will flow.

have mercy on our souls.

a story about hospitality

it was dark, it must have been late, dinner had not yet been served. in fact, i was busy trying to prepare it when i heard a quiet tapping on the back door. our backyard is enclosed with a fence which  the neighborhood kids know to enter only after they've asked permission. it's a general rule when we aren't in the yard.

earlier, the knocking at the front door had begun to get out of hand - kids being kids and being silly but wearing on us hungry and tired adults. so when the knock at the back door was heard, i was irked. i left my cooking to peer out a window, to catch a little pest in action. sure enough, someone was standing on my fence. the darkness hid who it was, so i just banged on the window and motioned a command to get down. whoever it was tried to gesture their explanation to me, which i assumed was unwarranted. i turned to the back door to get down to the bottom of this interruption.

let me not forget, the tap i'd heard had turned to two or three knocks and then a call of my name - Miss Cheri?! - but i still refused to answer. my task of making dinner i had determined to complete.

to my surprise and near horror when i opened the door, sweet d. was standing there cowering with tears in his eyes, explaining how some kids were threatening him.

oh my God, what have i done? i love this dear boy, small of stature yet so tall of heart. he has come to my door to find refuge. literally. and i've refused him. to offer a place for any one to be at home and find what they need for the journey was the hope-filled intention of my heart, and it had been realized. in an instant, i locked that door.

thank God for his mercy and justice. over us all. d.'s tears broke me and i offered my deep regret in apology. he came inside and wiped away his tears with a bit of shame. not long after, his cousins and siblings came to walk him home and a piece of myself walked away with him. i think it won't return.

i am so broken. jesus still comes to my house. let me not miss him again.