July 3, 2019- too much freedom?

So there I was standing in front of my patient. She was sitting in a chair beside her bed in the Cardiovascular ICU, her thighs being squeezed in by the pressure of the recliner's arms with bulging hospital gown hiding that the recliner had arms at all. She was in her late 60s, diabetic, and continuing her heart attack right in front of my eyes; it was evolving in medical speak. She was eating Wendy's. A chicken sandwich with mayo and a baked shell of butter and sour cream with a splash of potato for flavor. I was standing there looking from her, to her obese daughter, and then to her older sister. "Why don't you just smack me in the face." I was amazed at the amount of control I had of my voice and words. I was almost certain there would be a four letter word or two coming out considering the complete contempt and disgust that I felt at that moment. Of course her chubby cheeks and double chin sagged in a horrible frown. "You are sitting there eating fast food, in the Cardiovascular ICU, while your heart attack is continuing on until it finishes the damage it is going to do. Just spit on me."

A month earlier:
There was a group of Greek police in riot gear standing in front of the "gate" that led into the Idomeni Refugee Camp in Northern Greece. It had been very hot the last few days. Which was strange for early April. Refugees, volunteers, and civilians all looking at each other to see who might know what was going on. There was a commotion, a buzz of frenzied terror. Standing outside the gate, as I had been on my way into the camp, those of us that were closest to the scene were slowly backing away. It wasn't something I consciously thought about. The panic and yelling coming from the crowd, the crowd that didn't speak English, did not need a translator. Looking back, it reminds me of one of those disaster movie scenes where there is a big ruckus and everyone is frightened and running, but still looking back, trying desperately to understand what was was causing such chaos. People were running in this large pack, like a swarm of bees, towards the outer edge of the camp. If I didn't know that it was an empty cornfield behind them, I would've sworn there was a tidal wave coming. My eyes followed the front of the swarm. Arms waving and voices likely yelling to get out of the way because the crowd parted as the swarm came closer. I anxiously looked ahead of the swarm wondering where they were going or what they were heading towards with such high stakes.  My eyes were darting, taking in as much as possible, what happened, what could it be... there were rocks being thrown at the police, a group of 3 or 4 young men rocked a dumpster, back and forth, back and forth, until it turned over completely. The swarm of refugees appeared to be men mostly, but the women- the crying women were right there with them on the outskirts of the swarm, not wanting to slow it down or get in the way, but running along beside as best they could. I caught a glimpse, the tiniest opening in the swarm at just the right second, and my jaw clenched. My eyes filled because I knew, but yet, didn't know- that a refugee had been hurt, injured in some fatal way. They carried him by his arms and legs, running as fast as they could possibly go in their six legged race. It was the MSF (Medicine Sans Frontiers or Doctors without Borders)  medical tent they were going towards.  Murmurs and translations were jumbled all around me. The sound of sirens in the background made sense now.
The Greek Police had run over a refugee, near the tea tent. Why? How? After the swarm stopped at the medical tent, the rest of us rubberneckers started to spread apart, for the ambulance, and head closer to it, to the tragedy. It felt like a week that the ambulance just sat there but it apparently had picked up very precious cargo and began down the dirt trail toward the road.
He was hanging blankets up to create shade for his family. The hot sun and dusty wind was infuriating. It was hard to escape. His wife and three children had survived their desperate flight from Syria, through Turkey, and onto Greek soil by way of  the "Mafia". The had reached the border of Greece and Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia. It was the path to possible freedom. To family that already lived in western European countries; to Germany that had been accepting all asylum seekers from Syria. They made it through the hardest parts of the their journey to freedom. He had fallen backwards while he hung the blankets, some say he appeared to pass out, probably from the heat they said. He fell onto the ground, directly in front of a Greek Police van. It was said that part of his head had been run over. It was said that he was quickly scooped up and a swarm of refugees took off with him while others began throwing rocks at the police van. Windows shattered and tires were flattened. The cry went out through the camp, "The Greek police just ran over a man!" It wasn't a lie. It also wasn't the whole truth.
As the ambulance left and the crowd ever so slowly dispersed, I went toward the medical tent. The dry, dusty ground had a very large area that appeared to have been watered, as if flowers were expected to pop up. Of course it wasn't water but blood and yes, his skull had been crushed by the tire. The young man, in his 30s, left a young wife with three young children. He died and was to be buried there in the small town near the border. I have thought of the young family he left behind and wondered where they are now or what had become of them. I think of the doctors, nurses and medics that took care of this young refugee fleeing his decimated country where war seemed to continue until even the soil gave in. As of June 2018 34,618 men, women, and children have lost their lives fleeing from war and oppression in Syria. This is just one of them.

My return to the US after almost two weeks in northern Greece was an amalgamation of exhaustion, self-righteous anger, and incredulity. Which is why I found myself in front of my patient, telling her to just spit on me. Did she know, understand or even grasp the monumental gift she had been given? Did she realize how many other possibilities would have left her dead decades ago? If an ICU bed costs $5000/day (that's a low estimate), her outrageously fortunate self was receiving the benefit of top tier healthcare bestowed onto her for $3.47/minute: NO QUESTIONS ASKED. It was on this night, with this patient, that I knew my nursing career in Intensive Care would not be lasting much longer. Medical professionals carry heavy patient loads, working as best they can to ensure that the patient has the greatest possibility for the best possible outcome. Our performance is graded on those outcomes, mine personally and the hospitals' overall. Not one ounce of accountability is required to receive healthcare in this country. Our freedoms "are not so we can do what we want, but to do what we ought" -Jim Caviezel. When it comes to our personal health, to what should we be held accountable?

An authentic AH-HA moment for the ages.

There are self-help books, motivational TED talks, therapists, and even fortune cookies that ladle out advice on everything. If you don't have anything wrong with you, go to the self-help aisle in a bookstore and be quickly corrected. Apparently some of us can't even get sleep right. I have no qualms sharing the subjects of some of the many, many self-help books I've read in my life. Most are the everyday stuff like weight loss, diet and exercise, happiness, healing, alcohol abuse, finances, what religion I most closely identify with (apparently it was Hindu at the time) how to be a better Christian, restoring energy, depression, suicide, even finding my own north star. Truthfully, it's mostly pop psychology or a current fad like The South Beach diet, now more detailed and called Paleo. And Oprah has been the author of more than one of the books I've read.

Ugh- it's exhausting. Literally.

I'm going to guess that I'm not the only person who has felt like a failure about a week after finishing one of these types of books. I can never seem to get a hang of the very simple 937 steps it would take to lose weight, eat an anti-inflammatory diet, or get to my North Star with my "Untethered Soul" and it has really started to get on my nerves.

Am I right? These things aren't rocket science. It's not complicated to understand the "calories in -calories out" math. I've set goals for setting goals, that's how much of a perfectionist I have been. I've also sat with myself and given myself some grace that I may not be able to win everyone as a friend or influence anyone. Truth be told, I would settle for being nice enough to myself to be considered my own friend, and then maybe I would actually be able to influence my own behavior in positive and lasting ways.

Brene Brown has been my favorite hero now for five years or so. Daring Greatly profoundly changed my relationship with the rest of the world. Rising Strong as a Spiritual Practice opened the window I needed to stop apologizing for all the ways I was too much, or not enough for other people. I have learned a thing or two through all of this, but it was today that I finally had that real AH- HA moment that has been so elusive.

James Clear wrote the book Atomic Habits and I've only started listening to it today on my walk. It will apparently give instructions on how to create habits that can change your life. I will briefly explain his reasoning- We do not reach a goal because one day we have done enough of this or that and it just happened. I've set a million goals, and setting that goal, whether s.m.a.r.t. or not, didn't help me achieve it. Don't we all want to lose weight and get in shape? The crux of my ah-ha moment is that in our lives we make tiny, insignificant decisions, changes in 1% of our everyday lives according to the author. These decisions, at the moment, are harmless. But when today's decision is repeated tomorrow, and the next day, it doesn't take long for a habit to form- good or bad. For me, depressive thinking became a habit. It was years of accumulating decisions in my behaviors and thought patterns that ultimately allowed me to become incapacitated by my own mind. A few months ago I described doing sit ups while going through some bizarre overwhelming sadness that came on out of the blue. The sit ups got rid of the overwhelming sadness. It was my DECISION, that 1%, to just do SOMETHING besides sitting tearful on the couch that likely changed the trajectory of my life. According to Clear, it is not the goal that matters, it is the systems we use in life that need adjusted 1% everyday that will facilitate the goal becoming a reality. Have you ever tried to stop drinking soda or smoking, just to be frustrated and cranky? It's because the systems in our lives weren't adjusted to succeed. For example, I'm fairly excited to say that I haven't had Dr. Pepper in my refrigerator for months. Although I will still drink one if I go out. But, I started ordering sweet tea, and now I order half and half tea. The system that shapes my Dr. Pepper habit is slowly being changed. Maybe you get in the car and you are used to lighting a cigarette right at the beginning. That is a system at work that you can influence, 1% at a time.
I've stopped having the inner dialogue that what I cook won't turn out right and I'll wish I had eaten out instead. I allow myself only 10 minutes of snoozing, and then 5 minutes of looking at the notifications on my phone for the last "snooze session" and when the alarm rings for the final time, I'm up and out of bed. I think this notion of 1% at a time will be very powerful for me when it comes to my self-talk. If my mind starts nagging, whining, berating, calling names or anything else, I'm just going to stop, say a quick thank you to God, and get on with life. I don't need to mull over every negative detail that shows up, sticks out, or demands attention. Which reminds me of something we did in Bali during the women's retreat, and that was to put the bitch in the box. That haughty, mean spirited, troll of a voice that can ruin a perfectly good piece of pie, or marriage, or life.
Ah, yes.... things are already in motion that in a month, a year, a decade from now- will transform how I approach the art of life. This is very, very good. A

For my friend, Jan. You've got this.

For nurses in an intensive care unit, there is an unteachable gift that gets honed related to sound. The equipment, the lights, the hum of life, all become the context that our work exists in. We may not be able to articulate what it is that we know by just listening, but we know. Background noise, the sound of a working ventilator, the hair raising recognition that something is wrong and someone needs help with their patient before you hear the words yelled into the hallway. It was the sound of the quick and heavy foot steps and the way the intensity of the voice got projected before all of the words were even spoken. You knew. We know, and we act. It's the sound of an IV pump beeping for too long followed by an alarm that makes us get to the room more quickly. It's the tension in the face of someone who is dying that we pick up on hours, even days, before the resignation of the body. That is the space that nurses save lives in. The stillness of life after the exhale is finished, but before the inhale is initiated. We know but can't tell you what it is. It could be compared to driving your car and knowing something is wrong because of the sound it is or isn't making, or the sense of motion that feels different then usual. I've taken for granted how much my senses inform my world. Smelling the perfume "Michael" takes me immediately to Australia, smelling a camp fire takes me back to the nights in high school spent with the people of my past, and hearing the difference between elated tears and spirit crushing sorrow makes me tear up when it is the latter. How miraculous these senses are for our lives. The weight of a sleeping baby on your chest that brings feelings of peace. 

There is another area in my life where the 'muscle memory' of 42 years of experience shows up and speaks to my life. I can furrow my brow, turn down the corners of my mouth, relax my body into a defeated posture, and I'm on my way to feeling depressed. I would not do this on purpose but after spending a whole lot of time in that depressive posture, it is no surprise that the emotions of hopelessness, anxiety, and apathy come to keep the posture of my body company. It is a horrifying carousel of self-defeating existence. 

I was quite sick last week with the usual winter potpourri of fever, cough, chills, aches, and nausea. The kind of sick that makes sleeping exhausting work. The heaviness of an over tired body is one of my biggest false flags of depression. I am glad that I can recognize it as fatigue and not defeat. So last week in the midst of my cold medicine haze, I couldn't shake the feeling of overwhelming sadness. There wasn't any event that prompted these feelings of sadness. No horrible tragedy or death of a loved one. But, nonetheless, I felt the deep ache of an emotional pain that had no name. What was it that my body knew that I didn't? I kept asking myself what it had been that prompted such turmoil.Then I was asking myself why in the hell was I crying? Then, the most ludicrous of all ideas came to mind, (which is usually the work of the Holy Spirit)- I was on the floor with my knees bent and my fingers interlocked behind my head, not even knowing why I was doing it. My crying and counting was- shocking and somewhat hysterical. I don't know how many sit ups I did. It wasn't many before I lifted myself off the floor in astonishment of not feeling overwhelmingly sad anymore. As a matter of fact, I didn't feel any of the emotions that just a few minutes prior were doing a dress rehearsal of another major depressive battle to endure. But they weren't real. The sadness wasn't real. I had the single biggest epiphany about my depression: I am not crazy, but my chemistry is. How and why, I don't have answers to. But that night, in a daring act of rebellion, I hijacked my self from the chemistry that was attacking it. I climbed up and out of the depressive posture that my mind and body have so frequently and easily conformed to. I replaced the emotional and muscle memory of depression with the motion of my body. In all the history of my major depressive disorder, I have never done sit ups. I took the chemical context and replaced it with a physical reality with absolutely no connection to the emotions of sadness, hopelessness, apathy, and defeat. And I kinda wanna say "In your face, sucker!" This is the very first time I have been able to short circuit the cycle of depression. This was my victory. Cue the song "Eye of the Tiger" no, not Katy Perry's version- pft. 

January 20,2019- We the people

There is a question I've been asking much more frequently these days. 

"What is wrong with people?" 

Personally, I have asked this question most recently about a variety of topics:

Puppy mills, child abuse and neglect, any and all types of violence, up to and including murder. Sometimes in response to reading the news or watching a news clip-- "What is wrong with these people?" ISIS, human traffickers, Catholic priests who have sexually abused children, a President who literally calls people names, as if he were on a school playground.

The slanderous name calling of those on different political sides, the incivility toward each other based on presumptions that seem to require no fact checking or follow up questioning. How did hatefulness become the path of least resistance? Where or when did our rose colored glasses turn into the image at the end of a barrel? How did foe become the default assumption? 

Why do you hate me? Imagine that being asked today by people from different backgrounds, cultures, ages, sexes, races, and sexual identity.

The answers would be quite eye opening, I'm sure. Heartbreaking and convicting all at the same time.

Interestingly, I hope anyway, most people wouldn't be able to name specific people, but rather after a few names they would have to admit that it isn't the actual person, but that it is the group, or side, or belief that they stand on. We are all too familiar with the groups- I'm fairly certain that I don't have to name names to make this point. What it boils down to are the two main culprits that are alive and well in our society- us and them. If you are not for us, you're against us. The lines have been drawn in the sand. Which side to choose?

The last time I checked- there was no requirement to choose. How did we come to the point of accepting the way the media portrays the issues affecting our country as being only two sided? For or against. When did we give them the power to define sides and then explicitly give reason and meaning to those in opposition?

Black Lives Matter- if you don't think so it's because you are racist.

Make America Great Again- if you don't support it then you don't believe in patriotism and support of the foundations this country was built on, and are probably a Socialist.

Me Too-if you don't support the women who have spoken out against violence, harassment, and sexism, then you must think that women are partly at fault, or asking for it, for how they were treated. 

Gun Control Laws- if you don't support gun control legislation then you are fine with the threat of mass shootings, even if children are the potential targets.

Behind each of these narratives are the people who have endured through the worst of what could be dealt to them. The mothers and fathers of those who have been killed by police without provocation, whose children died at the school in an unthinkable act of violence, of those who live in the grips of systemic poverty and social injustice, and being raised in an environment that has stopped trying to fight it anymore. Enduring the harassment of men because you have been groomed to believe that you owe them for your job, your home, your security, or some other thing, and feeling unworthy of acceptance and belonging unless you wear skirts and heels. 

In all things, there is a bigger picture, a wider angle that diffuses the intensity of each individual's experiences. That is not fair. It would be similar to telling someone having a panic attack to just quit stressing about it. Right, because they never thought about that before. Or telling a woman to just leave their relationship, their job, or their home - just do it, doesn't work. It's complex, multifaceted and deserving of patience and respect from those on the outside of it. We've all heard the cliche` that everyone is going through struggles, or not to judge someone until you've walked in their shoes. We need to be much more curious then certain about our reaction to any of the us vs them topics. As human beings we have the capacity to reason, to take into account multiple variables and come to a conclusion. It might be difficult to hear, but our self-righteous indignation, arrogant assumptions of what it is like being in their shoes, and any other topic that you have no first hand experience with, has no place if you have not moved in closer to "them" to understand their struggles, fears, obstacles, and dreams. People are not statistics. The parents of children killed in mass school shootings are not comforted by the statistics of how much less gun violence there is over the last 50 years, and shame on us for thinking it should. Ditto for the families who have lost a loved one due to an interaction with a police officer, or the women who have endured the unwanted sexual advances in the American work force and the powerlessness they have had over it for so many decades,  just because there are women who will fabricate such things.  

It is not "Us the people, of the United States of America- or "Them the people" it is WE the people. 

And the Pledge of Allegiance- is to the flag of the United States of America and to the republic for which it stands, one nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all. Not just for democrats or republicans, not just for the red states or the blue states. We are all covered by that flag, and to maintain liberty and justice for all, we can't be "us or them". 

There are entities at work, attempting to divide and conquer, our great nation. Media is no longer trust worthy, and to know something for sure, will take us moving in and meeting our neighbors and loving them like ourselves.

August 17, 2018 - I'm a Bible Study Dropout

I recently "left" a bible study group. It wasn't the right fit. That was my best, politically correct explanation, I gave to the group. I want to talk about this though, because it's been heavy on my heart. My first encounter with God was completely life-changing. Since December 2014, I have devoured books on Christianity, on the tough-to-believe things that are in the Bible, on the power of God working through people all around the world, and a deep study of the New Testament in the Bible. I have 3 books written about the Dead Sea Scrolls written for 3 different purposes, a book of Flavius Josephus "The Antiquities of the Jews" translated by William Whiston, A.M. wherein book 18 is written about an interval of 32 years that acknowledges the different Jewish sects. On page 576:
       Now, there was about this time Jesus, a wise man, if it be lawful to call him a man, for he             was a doer of wonderful works- a teacher of such men receive the truth with pleasure. He           drew over to him both many Jews and many of the Gentiles. He was [the] Christ; and                 when Pilate, at the suggestion of the principal men amongst us, had condemned him to the         cross (A.D. 33, April 3), those that loved him at the first did not forsake him, for he                       appeared to them alive again the third day, as the divine prophets had foretold these and             ten thousand other wonderful things concerning him; and the tribe of Christians, so                     named from him are not extinct at this day. 
He also mentions John the Baptist, Herod, Pilate and many other people in the Bible. For what it is worth, it should be known that Josephus eventually betrayed his fellow Jews. It is fascinating to read all of these different pieces of the Biblical and historical records of 2000 years ago, at the same time. My heart is full for our God. My faith flows deeply through my life, anchoring me to a sense of peace that I find difficult to describe. I've encountered God a second, a third, and a fourth time. It is love. I embrace this love in a very intentional, thoughtful, and prayerful way. It is the most important thing about who I am.

Back to dropping out of Bible Study. We decided to "study" John Bevere's book- Killing Kryptonite. There were videos to watch each week that accompanied the readings we were to do. My first impression of this man was from the words he wrote, actually convicting me of my own practiced sin and what changes I would need to make to stop living in sin. The first impression, gut instinct, of his video teaching, left me unsettled. Something wasn't right. Each week, the more of the book and the videos we were getting through, the more I felt like his understanding and teaching of scripture were very decidedly one sided, and I finally decided to google him
 https://churchwatchcentral.com/2017/10/02/killing-kryptonite-the-bait-of-john-bevere/ 

In essence, he is not the kind of person I want to be learning any biblical principals from. I felt he was taking the scriptures that supported his claims, while not, also discussing, the scriptures that complete the essence of the teaching in the bible. The group had a Facebook page, and I wrote this similar description and my thoughts about why this guy was unsettling to me. I was told we would talk about it at group. We were only a week away from being done with it.  My post was taken down from the group leader in less than 10 minutes. Now throughout this study 4 other members spoke up saying similar things about his teaching. So on the last night of the study, it wrapped up and no one had much to offer up about it. Now, my thought was that the two women who were leading this study were going to bring up the difficulties that I, and others, had. I am vocal, indeed. I am not one to be confused by something and sit quietly about it. If it doesn't make sense I ask. This is my salvation and I am intentional with everything that I read- we are warned that there will be many false teachers to lead people astray. We are taught to verify the validity of a writing about scripture by comparing it to ....SCRIPTURE. We are to ask the Holy Spirit to help us understand. Because the ladies who said we would talk about it didn't bring it up, and I was trying to be polite and wait until I was called on but no. I made a snarky comment about everyone knowing I didn't like the guy and that I had a problem with some of the things he said and the way he interpreted scripture. Still not willing to discuss it. One later said it was because I was argumentative. I was holding back tears at the complete disregard for my thoughts and floored that when I asked them how the discerned scripture, meaning interpreted scripture from Christian authors - they said by the Holy Spirit and elders, apparently they didn't understand the question I was asking. I was heartbroken. I was angry that those who shared similar thoughts, didn't speak up. I was lost in the disregard for truth seeking.

I drove home and after careful thought and prayer, I private messaged 3 women in the group, the 2 who lead the bible study and the woman who invited me into the group. "I want to thank you for allowing me into your bible study. Thank You ... for opening your home. I respectfully will not be in attendance any further. I am not sure why I was censored on the page, not wanting to 'confuse' anyone being more important than having real discussion to work through this book's work....

I was told my discussion on the group page was actually in argument to why the study was not in alignment with the Word and why I didn't like the author (Yes because they were counter to the overall gospel). It's ok to discuss, but in your zeal to point out what was wrong you missed the point of the discussion...I have times when I share struggles. I also know that others have. We bring each other to accountability (I guess they didn't see that was what I was doing; trying to hold the author accountable to the gospel). Usually when the zeal of Christ runs someone wrong, that my friend is because the spirit in them feels uneasy. And that spirit isn't of God. (Yes, she told me in no uncertain terms that it was ungodly, the way I was thinking- I basically ran through the reasons that thinking critically of writings on the bible is what we are told to do, so that we are not deceived. I also said- that she wasn't going to speak over my life like that). She continued further about how discussing was ok, but being divisive wasn't. (Wasn't Jesus and his apostles a bit divisive? How does one not be divisive when what that person is saying is not in agreement with what is being discussed?) She then rounded out her thoughts on the matter that people shouldn't be talking about the bible study outside of the group, because it would just cause confusion. And she didn't want some of the less spiritually mature members to become confused.

There was no studying of the Bible to confront the author's teaching, in the bible study group, and I'm not sure if I am totally misunderstanding what Bible Study groups are supposed to do, since this was my first real one. The legalistic notion of telling others when they are not living according to the Word was a big part of the book. The irony was, that I was doing what the book was saying to do, to love your fellow Christian and make it a point to care about their salvation, and to let them know if they (we) were being misguided.

I have since sought Spiritual Direction from one of the Sisters where I work. She told me about a Friar that lived in Southeastern Indiana. He had a near death experience that took him all the way to the seat of judgment. He later told people that he was asked one question there. "How do you love?"

We are told that the greatest commandment is to love God with all our heart, our mind, our spirit, and our strength, and that the second greatest commandment is like it- to love our neighbors as ourselves. Loving God, for me, looks like obedience to His Word, spending time between the pages of the most important and influential book ever written, and seeking meaning through the lens of the life of Jesus Christ. What good is gaining the whole world, if you do not have love? I did not choose love the night of my last bible study. I chose God. 

August 15, 2018 No Doubt

The atrocities that human beings can inflict on other human beings leaves me doubled over, holding my face in my hands, supported by my elbows on my knees. I just realized that wasn't the proper stance to take. Kneeling in prayer. That's what is called for when reflecting on lives cut short, life experiences that get erased, and when the dreams of those who have died, are lost. My stream of consciousness just ran through various images that I have stored in my memory: Burmese Christians that were recently crucified by their neighbors; the genocides in Africa; the destruction in Aleppo, Syria and the numerous pictures of those fleeing Syria for their lives, only to drown with the dream of safety, never actually reaching it. The horrific photos of children who have been abused and neglected in the mightiest country in the world. Why seems to be such a useless question. The list of possible answers could probably lasso the moon.
When babies, toddlers, and children are encountering a person doing something around them, they try to look the person in the eyes and study their face, because they know that is where their first clues will come from, for whether or not the person is a danger to them. It's instinctual. Each of us learned to adapt to our surroundings this same way. So who was the first dangerous threat? You may or may not have thought about the serpent in the Garden of Eden with Adam and Eve, but I did. What's important to note, is that there wasn't a perceived threat for Eve. The serpent merely asked her a few questions. We can talk about what was going through Eve's mind when the serpent in Genesis 3:1 said "Did God really say, 'You must not eat from any tree in the garden?'" See what happened there? Sort of a bait and switch, questioning something untrue leads to an explanation of truth that leaves room for doubt. The next time you find yourself walking out of the store and getting into your car, imagine if someone asked you if you could pick the cashier who helped you, out of a line up. I'm guessing most of us would feel pretty confident we could do that. But what if they asked you to describe that person- their color of hair, were they wearing glasses, what color of shirt did they have on? You would be able to do the first, picking them out of a line up, but as soon as you had to describe specific attributes about them, you realize that maybe you didn't really know what they looked like, after all. That isn't true though, because you would know them when you saw them. Doubt. It is of no small insignificance to have doubt. What we know now about this phenomena, it's got a name but I don't remember it, is that just because we can't seem to recreate exactly what the person looked like into words, doesn't mean we should doubt that we saw them at all. Does that make sense? Eve was being asked to recall exactly what God said, which planted the seed of doubt, that led the conversation to the point where the serpent could then put a nail in the coffin- "You will certainly not die" he said. I can almost imagine Eve's gut instinct telling her that something just didn't sit right with what he was saying. Yet, his explanation was given with an authority of wisdom, that gave her the courage to dismiss her intuition. Deceit, deception, manipulation- these were at work in Eden at that moment. Only they were under the veil of asking for Eve to remember what and why God said what he said about the tree in the middle of the garden. The serpent was not threatening her. He was only bringing to her attention the reasons that made her doubt that she shouldn't eat from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil.

Are there serpents in your life? I believe that we are all influenced by the serpents of this world. Think about fake news, one sided media coverage, hearing only half of the truth or even less, gossip, bullying, and even the lies we are capable of telling ourselves. We can't allow ourselves to have our values and beliefs used in a way that is harmful to another person. Left, right, republican, democrat, man, woman, black, white- each of us likely wants what we favor and value to be our lived reality. Just because some people want stricter gun laws, does not mean they want your guns taken away. And those who don't want stricter gun laws, are not saying there shouldn't be any laws. Our country is in the process of doing a lot of name calling, a lot of stereotyping, and a lot of drawing dividing lines- because we each have a serpent asking, probing, and doing a great job of "He said, She said" to bring us to the brink of irreconcilable differences.  We must have faith in our fellow man, our neighbors, our political officials, our families and friends, because we are all on the same side- the side of peace and freedom. Maybe you just rolled your eyes at me- but when the rubber hits the road, if you are not part of the solution, you are part of the problem (and get this- that goes both ways).

Well Played, God. Well played. May 31, 2018

I've got some good news, and I've got some bad news. Depending on your situation, which is which, will be up to you.

For me, I was placed nicely in the friend zone over the weekend. The sting was more than I expected, which probably has something to do with the fact that I'm a 41 year old divorcee working in a Monastery with 141 nuns, and coming across a good guy, that doesn't smoke, doesn't have a record, doesn't have young children OR a crazy ex-wife was hard to come by. The wind was knocked out of me. And, as always, God revealed to me the one greatest truth that might as well have been tattooed on my forehead because of how blatantly simple it is. My faith leads me in almost every area of my life. Like a lot, a lot. I have prayed for God to open doors if He wants me to go through them. Which is how I ended up getting a job in a monastery in southern Indiana (which for me, my IDEAL nonprofit job was always to find a faith based organization to work for). I've prayed for things that are not of His design to be removed from my life; to protect me from things that are only meant to come and rob my peace, my faith, and my joy. I have prayed that He might bless me with a good, faith full man in my life; one that would be open to being a Foster Parent. A man that I might be able to love growing old with every single day. AND WHAM! Duh Brooke. I realized that my future, dream relationship, didn't necessarily have marriage in it (the statistics for success of a third marriage are pretty gritty). Do you see the problem yet? How on earth did I ever believe that God would place in my path something that would lead me straight into sexual immorality (sex outside of marriage in this case)????? The Village Church shares what the scriptures say about this  "It is called evil, improper, sinful, fleshly, earthly and against the will of God."  So you're telling me, that's a no on sex? Correct. Just to be clear, this is the bad news! After my initial shock and awe over that epiphany, I quickly realized that it made perfect sense. God wants what is best for me. God wants only those things that bring peace, faith, and joy into my life. God knows every one of our weaknesses. Jesus came so that we might have life, and have it abundantly. Of course I could make some sexist remark about being better off, but I'm not going to. 

If I've learned anything, it's that my God is faithful, merciful, and loving. He will shower us with blessings when we keep Him in our hearts and His commands in our lives. It's like giving money away, whether tithing or donating, God has brought it back to me, every single time. What more will He do if I should heed his commandments against sexual immorality? He will bless me in much greater ways than I could have ever even imagined. He is worthy of obeying and that is the good news.