Be Brave Enough To Ask For What You Need. Here's Why.

I awoke to the scraping and scratching of a garbage can against cement. Peering through the blinds to confirm what I embarrassingly feared to be true, I saw our elderly neighbor slowly dragging our recycle can out to the curb. She walked gingerly, lugging the large blue bin behind her with each step.

Ugh… I forgot to remind the boys to do that yesterday… I thought, dismayed she took it upon herself to do it for us when we're plenty capable. Let’s just file that under “reasons I wake up feeling like a failure” and call it a day.

I groggily lumbered downstairs and asked the boys to please take out the other bins so she didn’t feel the need to do that, too, and make sure to thank her. They trudged outside while I started making bagels for breakfast and put on a fresh pot of coffee. It was a lazy morning, and, not expecting anyone, I was happy to lounge around in my pajamas.

But I had barely gotten the kids settled into their seats at the table when we heard a soft knock on the front door. My son opened it to find our neighbor.

She handed him a coupon for one of the local pizza places. She said she wasn’t going to use it but thought we might. “Aw, thank you!” I said, joining them. “And thank you for taking out our garbage this morning! That was really sweet of you.”

It wasn’t a big deal, she assured me as we chatted. I thought about inviting her in, but standing there partially obscured by the door in pajamas, I let self-consciousness get the better of me and said nothing.

“Is that coffee I smell?” she interjected.

“It is!” And before I could even squeak out a polite, “would you like some?” she asked, “would you mind if I borrowed a cup so I don’t have to make one cup for myself at home?”

“Absolutely.” I replied. “Come on in! Why don’t you sit with us at the table--we’re just eating breakfast.” I walked with her over to the table, wiped a good handful of crumbs off the end spot, and pulled out a chair. “Can I get you a bagel, too?” 

“Well, I certainly won’t turn it down!”

She’s missing some teeth but has enough to gladly accept a soft breakfast, which I came to understand may be the only meal she’d eat today because she’s not working this week and money is tight. Time off work is only a “vacation” for the middle-class. At seventy+ years old, she walks a mile uphill to work every day (quite literally) and realized this week that the $8/hour she earns isn’t “extra” like she previously thought. She needs it to make ends meet, so she’s eager to get back to it. She has no other choice.

She meandered over to the sink and put some cold water in her coffee. “Did I make it too strong today?” I chuckle. No, she just doesn’t want to overstay her welcome, so she’s cooling it off.

“We have nowhere to be,” I tell her. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you like.”

She’s wearing an oversized yellow shirt, which is quite filthy upon closer inspection, and a pair of stretchy pants she haphazardly cut off to make shorts. She tells me her washing machine broke and the clothes are piling up in baskets and bins all over her house. “Could I give you a ride to the laundromat?” I ask. She can’t afford it right now, she says.

And as we sat there together, I found myself incredibly grateful she was brave enough to beseech a cup of coffee because it created an opportunity.

It was an opportunity to bless her, an opportunity I would’ve missed had it not been for her boldness. Because sometimes we need a push to step out beyond ourselves.

It ended up being an opportunity for her to have some breakfast and fellowship with people big and small before she returned to the drudgery of her tasks at home alone.

It was an opportunity for me to behold the pain and poverty of someone in my own neighborhood and help shoulder the burden alongside her. I may not be able to change her circumstances, but I sure can provide a hot cup of coffee and a listening ear.

This may sound weird, but I already know that God is going to provide her with a washing machine. I don’t know how or through whom, but I do know His heart for the poor.

********

My husband and I were sitting at the kitchen table the other night putting the finishing touches on our support letter, our very first attempt to raise money toward becoming full-time urban missionaries (if you missed the email or the Facebook announcement, you can view the letter here). It’s something we’ve been working towards for over a year now, always on the side, part-time, on a voluntary basis. But God is calling us to risk more, to go all in, and raising support is the first step in that direction.

Let’s be honest here for a second--it’s a difficult, humbling process. While we certainly need all the prayer and support we can muster, we also really, really need financial backers for our missions work to be sustainable.

“I just hate asking other people for money.” my husband said.

I know. Asking for money just feels….awkward, and it’s been holding us back for some time now.

But then I told him about the encounter with our neighbor earlier, how her being brave enough to ask for something she needed created an opportunity for me to step out of my comfort zone and bless her.

Her asking created an opportunity for her need and my resources to collide. Otherwise, I would’ve had more coffee than I could drink myself and she would’ve walked away hungry and thirsty. Even more, we both would’ve missed the opportunity to share our lives with each other and come out on the other side richer for it.

So I guess that’s what we’re offering you here today: an opportunity.

An opportunity to step out of your comfort zone, and in doing so, bless our family as we seek to pursue urban missions full-time with Envision Cleveland.

An opportunity to come alongside us as we minister to the poor and vulnerable in our own neighborhood and beyond. I promise, we will both walk away richer for it in ways money could never buy.

An opportunity to invest in the city of Cleveland and its people, whether it be physically via a missions trip with Envision, in support and prayer, or with a one-time or ongoing financial gift to our family. Think of it as us borrowing a cup of coffee a week. Or a cup a month. It’s really that simple.

I believe God has been working behind the scenes for over a decade to prepare our family for urban missions, and it will be my privilege to begin to share some of our story here on the blog in the months to come. I hope you’ll follow along with our journey to see what God continues to do in our family and in Cleveland, and if you’re interested in receiving our missions updates via email, you can sign up here!

And as always, please feel free to share! :)

The Thing About Being Sad

“You aren’t who you are all the time.”

At least that’s the case according to Lisa Feldman Barrett, professor of Psychology at Northern University. She goes on to say, “you have a vocabulary of the self, a range of people who you become.”

This idea seems familiar and comforting to me, like an NPR-ish way of saying what Paul does in Romans 7:

It happens so regularly that it’s predictable. The moment I decide to do good, sin is there to trip me up. I truly delight in God’s commands, but it’s pretty obvious that not all of me joins in that delight. Parts of me covertly rebel, and just when I least expect it, they take charge (v21-23, MSG).

I find that I often write from a certain disposition; it’s the observant, insightful, idealistic, convicted of a greater good/hope/purpose “self” that cranks out most of the essays. Interspersed between city drama and heartfelt narratives is the funny/snarky “self," and then we have the dormant chef "self" with an occasional recipe to share. That last one hasn’t surfaced in a while, mainly because it’s summer and we’ve been surviving on a steady diet of sandwiches, processed carbohydrates, and chicken nuggets. Lord have mercy on our digestive tracts.

But the melancholy part of me, the one who recently told my husband, “my problem is that I feel like a failure from the moment I get up in the morning and it just goes downhill from there”....that one doesn’t write much.

“I think that’s called depression,” he responded.

I think he’s probably right. And depression wants to run away and hide. It loves isolation, so naturally, it doesn’t have a voice. Or pen many essays. 

I’m not sure when it happened in our society, but sadness became “negative” and uncomfortable. It doesn’t jive well with perky status updates, 140 character one-liners, or pretty pictures of home decor and flowers, although I’ve deliberately tried to juxtapose the two. The fact is, no one likes a Debbie Downer, and deep down, everyone wants to be liked.

I think what make sadness so uncomfortable is we don’t know what to do with it, especially if the person has no obvious reason for feeling sad. Then, it’s just...awkward. Sometimes, there are no bandages or platitudes or commiserating that will help. It just is what it is.

Sunshine helps. Talking to people helps. Getting enough sleep helps. So does laughing.

But the thing about being sad? It’s okay.

It’s okay to be sad. The reality is, the world we live in is not all rainbows and unicorns, unless your world is a Starbucks frappachino. Or a bag of skittles.

It’s also okay to not know what to say to someone who’s sad. It’s okay to not have all the answers or know how to fix it. Believe it or not, that was never in our job description. I don’t know that people long to be fixed so much as they long to be heard and loved, and that goes for any emotion or situation.

As much as I’d love to be the encouraging person who’s noticing the many footprints of God in my mundane daily life, the truth of the matter is I’m also the person who wakes up and feels like I’m failing at all aspects of life before I’ve even had a cup of coffee, and there’s simply no encouragement to give. But sadness doesn’t negate the presence of God, even if He’s a little harder to see, and I’m realizing that maybe this other part of me should write.

That maybe, she has something to say, too.

I’ve tried everything and nothing helps. I’m at the end of my rope. Is there no one who can do anything for me? Isn’t that the real question?

The answer, thank God, is that Jesus Christ can and does. He acted to set things right in this life of contradictions where I want to serve God with all my heart and mind, but am pulled by the influence of sin to do something totally different. (Romans 7:24-25, MSG)

For When Letting Them Fail Is Love

It was a #momfail kind of parenting week with one angry, tired, short-tempered day stacked on top of the other like wooden building blocks, which I’d leave out for the baby to play with if I had any remaining patience for things strewn all over the floor. 

I yelled at the kids. I reacted instead of responded. I snarled at behaviors rather than shepherding the emotions behind them. In my head, I know all these things. And as I sat out on the front porch watching them ride their bikes and laugh and play with each other, the weight of my sin began to crush my heart.

Why does God allow this? Why does He give us children and make us parents when He knows we’re just going to screw it up? Screw them up? It must break His heart when I open my mouth sometimes.

He would be a much better parent. So why does He….let me?

I sat in the shade with those thoughts and asked God for help in my weakness before going back inside to prepare lunch. The baby came with me, and he promptly started disasterizing (it’s a word, believe me) the kitchen, which is something he does best. First the towels, then the cupboards, the tupperware drawer, and the dog’s water.

“No...NO...NO!!” I ran over just in time to stop the rest of the water bowl he’d picked up from spilling all over the floor. I don’t know why he does that--is he trying to bring it to me? From the look on his face, you’d think he was being helpful.

I sighed, set the bowl on the counter, and picked a towel out of the dirty pile to sop up the mess. It’s a waltz we do almost daily, so I shouldn’t have been surprised when the baby grabbed a towel and dropped in on the floor next to mine, his chubby little foot trying to drag it across the puddle, just like me.

I bent down and went over the area again with the towel in my hands, and he plopped down on the floor and did the same.

It occurred to me as I knelt there that the only way we learn is by messing up. Or by making a mess. Again and again. Whether we’re toddlers with a water fetish or emotionally explosive parents, we learn by screwing up and trying again. By grace and repentance; by asking for forgiveness and help.

We learn and grow because someone loved us enough to let us.

Love is patient in spite of troubles, especially those caused by other people. It’s longsuffering. Love is in it for the long haul, suffering the setbacks, failures, and inconveniences of daily life right alongside one another.

Love, as it turns out, is the opposite of control. Love makes room for failure, messes, and mistakes. Love lets them fall so they learn how to get back up. Love lets them fail so they can figure out what it takes to succeed. And they will, eventually. Love holds on while at the same time letting go.

Love is the ultimate paradox.

The Truth About Vacationing With Kids...and Why You Should Do It Anyway

As we walked out onto the beach for the first time in seven years after a thirteen hour car ride with five children, I realized something. Having been up since 3am, I was tired, and it was raining. Much to our chagrin, summer decided to take a hiatus upon our arrival. Weariness was winning the internal battle for gratitude, and all I could think was, “the beach isn’t as fun as I remember it. Was this a really expensive mistake?”

The kids, however, were just thrilled to finally see the ocean and could’ve cared less about the circumstances. Witnessing all the “firsts” never gets old, and this was certainly no exception. Pure joy and excitement so raw it was contagious, even in a downpour. Kids have a unique ability to make the best of any situation.

It dawned on me there’s a terrible secret we parents keep. Most of the time it’s not even intentional, but we’re complicit in deceiving the world nonetheless. We disguise it under the smiling family photos with an enviable backdrop. We crop out the chaos and leave only our feet in the warm sand by a good book that we were actually able to read on the beach. From the outside, it looks so, so, good…

Do you want to know the truth about vacationing with kids?

I’ll just say it because someone needs to: it’s kind of awful. Making memories is a lot of work. It’s hard, tiring, and rarely goes as planned, none of which I realized until I was on the parent-side of things.

What you don’t see in all those photos is the long hours in a hot car with sibling rivalry and spilled snacks and crying babies and a constant barrage of “are we there yet?” Y'all, travel-whining is like normal-whining on drugs. Trust me on this one. 

You don’t see the inevitable combination of fatigue and stir-crazy which makes it impossible to fall asleep at a foreign place in a strange bed. Or stay in bed without getting up to tattle on siblings. Again.

You don’t see the chaotic and stressful process of packing seven people with enough food, clothes, and books to literally move them from point A to point B for an entire week.

But the other truth about vacationing (and parenting and all of life) is this: the flip-side of terrible/awful is wonderful/awesome, and it seems you can’t have one without the other. Vacation is both, and, incidentally, the awful makes the awesome even sweeter.

There’s something magical about being plucked out of the ordinary that sears memories into our consciousness. While normal, everyday moments of reading books, fighting with siblings, playing outside in the dirt, or taking a walk to the park may fade, they will never forget this vacation to the beach.

They’ll never forget the first time they saw the ocean, even though it was cold and rainy.

They’ll never forget building castles in the sand with their uncle or swimming in the pool the until their backs were crispy.

They’ll never forget the baby walking to the house naked after all the sand had been hosed off, or how the towel got wedged in his tiny buttcrack.

They’ll never forget combing the beach for “treasures” with grandma or hunting for crabs late into the freezing night with nothing but the moon and a flashlight to cut the dark.

photo credit: Bethany Moses

They’ll never forget how the world’s biggest sandbox felt beneath their feet, the smell of the salty air, the sound of the crashing waves, or the thrill of riding them to the shore.

Vacations are an invitation to step away from the hustle and business of life, to switch our focus, and to broaden our perspective. It’s a chance to unapologetically put family first, set down our phones, to-do lists, and gnawing “shoulds” and instead appreciate relationships. It’s an opportunity to take in the beauty of God’s creation and learn from a culture and people different than our own.

Summer decided to return for our last full day at the beach and just in time for a long trip back home in a minivan without air conditioning. We shook the sand from our feet, waved goodbye to the ocean, who seemed to wave back, and offered as much water and grace to our red-faced traveling companions as we could muster. The van wreaked of exhaustion and dead sea life, which no doubt hitched a ride in a bucket buried in the trunk, and in the cool, early hours of the morning, we arrived safely back home.

The truth about vacationing with kids is that it's terrible and draining and frustrating and disappointing at times. But it's also wonderful and awesome and an incredible blessing to experience alongside each other, for you can’t put a price on the value of making memories.

Vacations are an opportunity to live abundantly and fully right where you are, and no matter the cost or inconvenience, it’s always, always worth it. You won’t regret it.

Ok, maybe you will sometimes, but you'll get over it. Vacations are like childbirth: somehow you block out all the painful moments and want to do it again!

Here's to next year.

Good {hard, frustrating, exhausting, messy} Works

For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do. Ephesians 2:10

This summer is just...different.

So far it’s noticeably cooler, today being no exception. I happen to love mid-70’s with a breeze so I’m thrilled, but the kids aren’t as excited about freezing to death during swimming lessons.

And the house is much quieter these days. One of the neighborhood kids moved away at the end of the school year, and although she’s less than a mile away, we haven’t seen her since. Another kid grew up a lot this past year and is on to bigger but not always better things. I’ve had to be more intentional about reaching out to the the kids who used to occasionally wander over on their own.

I don’t know that I realized the good works for what they were until they didn’t start happening as easily anymore. Until I had to work a little harder for opportunities and track down missing kids at different houses like I look for pacifiers under couches.

As much as I loved having those kids around all the time, they made for a lot of work. Because, you see, good works are often hard works and messy works and uncomfortable works at times, and those things tend to piss off an already stressed and overwhelmed momma. Just a little bit.

There was dirty shoes on the carpet and cursing in the kitchen. There were broken decorations and trampled belongings as their teenage feet bounded around the house. There were mature conversations to be confronted, again, due to the presence of little ears. There was fighting and name calling and punching and figuring out how to talk about things instead. Encouraging one another and talking about Jesus and our day at the dinner table.

But when you put a bunch of sinful people in a little house together, when you squeeze them all around a table like a pack of hotdogs, you’re bound to annoy and frustrate each other. Relationships are where you do the messy, uncomfortable work of loving, stretching, growing, compromising, forgiving, and offering grace, again. And again. Doing good works is hard work and it will inevitably piss you off, but I’m convinced now that’s how you know you’re doing it right.*

There were a million annoyances; there was abundant chaos, and yet, so much richness. So much love and acceptance, trust and truth. And these days when we have quiet afternoons (by “quiet,” I mean still probably louder than 99% of other houses, because 5 kids) of reading and crafts and movies and I can hear the trees dancing outside in the summer breeze, I find myself missing it and hoping they’d walk through the front door.**

We tend to think that if we’re “doing God’s will,” participating in the work He has for us while we’re here, that it will be easy. That the road will be free of bumps and curves and we won’t stumble as the doors open wide ahead of us. But I’ve found just the opposite to be true. That death is unavoidably tethered to new life like winter comes before spring and the sunshine after the rain.

It’s God’s plan of redemption, of making all things new, of grace. It’s the way to a life that is rich and deep and exhausting and fulfilling in a way that a sterile, safe, comfortable life never could be, for it’s found in laying it down.
 

*Would you like to partner with us as we love, serve, and share Jesus with those who are vulnerable and hurting in Cleveland? We’d love for you to walk this journey alongside us. Find out more HERE.

**Y’all, as I tapped out the final words of that sentence on my dusty keyboard, I heard the telltale knock of the neighborhood kids at our front door for the first time in almost two months. No joke. God is busy answering prayers before we’re even aware of our need or have the wherewithal to utter them from our lips. Never doubt that.