A Threadbare Palantir

Yesterday Lighthusband and I took a mental health day together. This is somewhat more difficult for us than for other couples of our age and shoe size. I homeschool our children and he works from home. So, we have to take somewhat extraordinary measures to “take a day off.” But we did. We needed to recalibrate and get ourselves back on the same page in the book. It was lovely. We talked and planned and worked together all day long. We even went out to lunch, using some restaurant gift cards given him on his birthday back in October. Corn & crab soup and cranberry bread pudding were absolutely delicious.

Among the things we decided to do or change was that we have begun getting up early in the mornings and walking together as a way of carving out some time together each day. It’s interesting that while we spend whole days and weeks together, we hardly ever have time to talk beyond occasional sentences here and there. So despite LightBoy’s immediate interest in joining us, we’re going alone each morning.

This morning we set out into the cool February darkness together and it was good. We didn’t go very far or very long. Just enough to get our mojo running. It was a beginning of sorts. And when we go tomorrow we realized we’re going to need a nice stretch first to warm up.

As we rounded a last bend and entered the home stretch, I began to think about some of our neighbors. We live in a typical suburb where it’s difficult to get to know one another, but over time we have. Mostly because LightBoy is so friendly and helpful. He is always on the lookout for ways to help the neighbors … carrying stuff for them, digging in their dirt, and the like. He also has playmates on the streets and so we have gotten to know their parents and the children come and go. In December one of the moms had an unanticipated health emergency, so we helped the family with that.

I was musing about all of these people in their houses as we walked. I’ve long wanted to have a neighborhood gathering of some sort. But suddenly I realized … I’m a turtle. I spend all my energy on my family (who are hares), homeschooling, hockeying, and supporting them. I don’t have anything left for my neighbors but great ideas and desires and smiles and platitudes. On the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator I am an Introvert, which has only gotten stronger as the years have passed. It takes more and more time for me to recharge my batteries when out in public.

So, I’ve been sitting in my house (shell) for all these years, poking my head out occasionally to smile and wave. I always enjoy the people I see, but it exhausts me on top of my other commitments. What would it take, I thought, to be more in balance and get to know the people right here on my street? So that when the time is right I will be able to be a winsome message of Love.

It just doesn’t do to be a turtle …

Filed under: Grace, Lovin' my neighbor by threadbaresonja

I heard this week that (of all things) Liberty University has a women’s hockey team. Yes, poodles, **that** Liberty University. What will the Baptists think of next? In fact, one of the young women that I know is thinking of attending Liberty so that she can play on their hockey team. Her quote? “Yeah, I don’t go to church much, but I wanna play hockey.” I said, “Well, you’ll be going to church AND playing hockey if you go to Liberty.” She shrugged and indicated that wouldn’t be a big deal. Alrighty then. Hockey really can be a mission field.

I’ve been reunited with a long-time and dear friend. We first met about sixteen years ago or maybe more. I can’t remember now. I know I’ve known her since before her daughter who will be sixteen in July. Our girls are six months apart and played together from the moment they could play. They were practically inseparable until they were about 9 or 10. And then we fell apart. Nothing major happened. There was no falling out. We just sort of drifted. Life happened. Our family left the church and it was hard.

Recently both girls joined Facebook and found each other there. They started chatting away again. Then they made arrangements to meet up at a homeschool event one Friday morning. My friend came too. What a joy it was to see her sparkly eyes again; to talk and laugh and cry with her again. The girls are talking and laughing together again just like old times too. Although … they are all grown up now and we must remember that [rolls eyes].

I found out that their family left the church as well. Different circumstances, similar reasons … pastor had developed hearing loss. Or perhaps a case of arrogance. Whatever the case may be, I was struck by the author of “Pastoralia” who quoted from Luke 3 “Produce fruit in keeping with repentance.”

Well, I wanted to know more, so I went to read more from Luke 3 and this is what I found:

John said to the crowds coming out to be baptized by him, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the coming wrath? Produce fruit in keeping with repentance. And do not begin to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our father.’ For I tell you that out of these stones God can raise up children for Abraham. The axe is already at the root of the trees, and every tree that does not produce good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire.”

“What should we do then?” the crowd asked.

John answered, “The man with two tunics should share with him who has none, and the one who has food should do the same.”

Tax collectors also came to be baptized. “Teacher,” they asked, “what should we do?”

“Don’t collect any more than you are required to,” he told them. Then some soldiers asked him, “And what should we do?”

He replied, “Don’t extort money and don’t accuse people falsely—be content with your pay.”
(Luke 3:7-13)

Produce fruit in keeping with repentance - what is that? It’s not pride, John warns. Share, collect only what is due, and be honest and content.  Ultimately, that was why we had both left that church.  Too many of those who were there were proud of their father Abraham and no one was willing to share their spare tunics.  There was no fruit in keeping with repentance.

She told me about the church they go to now and I was astonished.  It’s the local Baptist church.  Large and imposing.  But she gets to spend two nights a week teaching English as a second language (the county we live in has one of the largest Hispanic communities on the East Coast).  And she works in their food pantry.  As she said, “Now when someone comes to me asking for something to eat or something to wear, I don’t have to tell them no.  I can open the door and smile.”

And the youth group that her daughter is part of?  Well, they go into the low rent townhouse neighborhood that our former church shunned (right across the street) to hand out food, make friends and meet needs.

I’m thinkin’ what is up with the Baptists?  First a hockey team, now this?  I may end up back in church after all.

Filed under: Gellies, Livin' the missional life by threadbaresonja