The Power of "I'm Sorry" (and other ideas for peaceful conflict resolution)

I sat there.

My Dad to the left of me, holding my hand. My husband to the right. He'd been holding my hand but had let it go the more irate he got. The psychiatrist sat across from us.

I was 48 hours into a mandatory 72 hour inpatient hospital stay.

I was 20 years old.

Three days before, I'd given up. I was certain enough that nothing was ever going to get better. That I was never going to feel better. I was tired. I just wanted to be done. So, while my husband was at work, I went into the bathroom and took all of my medication. Even the Saint John's Wort (the warning on the label said you could overdose on it...).

And now, I was in a mental hospital. With my husband and my father arguing about who had hurt me more. Who had done the most damage. Who was most at fault for the fact I sat here, in this place, alive but not okay. But my state of being didn't seem to be the issue at this point. It was more about blame.

I hadn't gotten a word in edgewise. Hadn't tried. Just sat there looking down into my lap. I finally looked up at the psychiatrist, looked her in the eye and thought "Do you get it now?" She flashed me a sardonic grin. And finally asked "What do you think Cindy?"

I said "I think the person responsible for how I feel is me. It's not about what's been done to me, it's about how I feel about it. I'm responsible."

Suddenly my husband and father, who minutes before had been yelling at each other, were allies and taking turns explaining to the psychiatrist that this was indeed my fault.

They still didn't get it. At that point, it didn't matter whose fault it was. It didn't matter what had happened to get me this way. What mattered was that I was this way and the focus needed to be how to help me get better.

The truth was that they'd both hurt me but that didn't make them solely responsible for what I'd done. However, the guilt they felt was so uncomfortable that they were too busy trying to dismiss it...to point fingers at others...to make themselves feel better...they couldn't focus on me and what the real problems were. And how to solve them. They felt like an "I'm sorry" made them solely responsible and condemned them as bad people. And it didn't...it just meant they were human. Imperfect...and willing to say so.

I don't bring this up to point fingers at my Dad (who I still miss on an almost daily basis) or my ex-husband. In fact, it's been years since I thought about that incident until today. I don't even know the girl sitting there (For real, have I been that quiet since then?). But it brings up several points about conflict, the issues that we are struggling with on a personal, national, even worldwide level.


1) The first step of conflict resolution is not to establish blame. The Democrats and Republicans in our country prove that. More than likely (in most cases), all parties bear some sort of responsibility. There might need to be a time of "Hey, sorry I did so and so" but it does not need to be followed up with "but you did so and so and that makes you worse than me" Before someone misunderstands, let me explain. I know, for a fact, that I am not responsible for what happened to destroy my marriage. I am, however, to blame for some of the problems in our marriage. I'm not asking anyone to take on false guilt or apologize for something that isn't their fault. I'm just saying we can begin to resolve the conflict if all parties are willing to admit they are imperfect.

2) The first step in conflict resolution is to honestly access what the problem actually is. That might be different things to different people, especially at first glance. For instance, my husband thought my Dad's alcoholism was the problem. My Dad thought the fact I'd married a jerk was the problem. And I was too concerned with the effects active charcoal had on the body to really care what the actual problem was. Getting to the root of an issue will take some digging and you cannot be distracted by symptoms or causes (both might or will have to be dealt with later but the priority is to identify the root cause). My Dad was alcoholic for most of my life. When he quit drinking, he became addicted to sweets. (Seriously, he kept cases of Little Debbie cupcakes in his trunk.) When he became overweight because of the snack cakes, he became addicted to coffee. He had two pots in the kitchen...one was always ready, the other brewing. Then it was Diet Dr Pepper. And then, after he hurt his back, it was pain medication. There was never a point in my Dad's life from the time he was 17 years old that he wasn't an addict...because no one ever actually identified the problem, what the root cause of his addiction was.

3) Conflict resolution can be messy, takes compromise...and time. Be willing to say that resolving a problem is more important than getting your way in all things. Be willing to let things go. I know that to remedy situations, restore relationships and for the sake of my own mental health I have had to let some things go...so have most of the over-comers I know. Again, that is not to say lay down and be a victim...but you may never know why something happened or someone said that, you may never get the perfect apology and the remedy for a problem might take some compromise so that you get some things you want and they get some things they want. Be willing to work things out as you go along. Some things you thought might work, might not. Sometimes resolution actually means there needs to be distance between you and someone or something else. And it takes a lot of time. More time than you want it to...you have to put the same principles in practice repeatedly.

4) Forgiveness is worth it. Several years ago I was at a prayer event in Birmingham, AL. The event occurred on the anniversary of Martin Luther King's death and the focus was on reconciliation. There were people of every color and we'd worshiped together, learned together, prayed together. Beautiful is an understatement. At one point we were taking communion together. I was compelled to look at the lady next to me and say "I'm sorry." I told her that I was sorry for the prejudice in my family, the way I'd looked the other way, the jokes they'd told. That I was sorry for the systematic dehumanizing that she had endured for years as a black woman in the South. I was a little nervous as I said it. For all I know she could be from Maine or Saint Thomas...she might never have experienced prejudice in her life (though unlikely). All I knew is, I was supposed to say it. And she looked at me and said "I forgive you" And tears started to fall and before I knew it she was hugging me and sobbing. Somehow, in saying it to me...she was able to begin the process of forgiving those who had actually harmed her. And she had been harmed. Her family had been harmed.  None of the people who'd actually harmed her were there to make amends. And her forgiveness certainly didn't make what they had done okay. But it meant that she was able to let go, to heal, to begin to release the distrust and bitterness against all white people she'd felt for years. It was necessary for her resolution and it's necessary for yours.

It's basic. It's simple. But I also think that if we could apply some of this to our relationships, to our politics, to our attitudes that we could see real change. If we could stop pointing fingers and really understand the problems our nation faces...and not the smoke bombs but the real problems...homelessness, poverty, prejudice, a broken system that no longer represents all the people but the richest and special interest groups who can afford the lobbyist...then we could begin to affect change. If we are willing to let go of the "I'm Right and you're Wrong" and see the positives in each other even as we admit our own humanity and mistakes. Then we could do something about the terminal negativity that is dividing us and creating this vitriolic atmosphere.

And for those of you who are hurting. Who are done. Who think it's time to let go. I do not make promises but I will make this one. It does get better. Your existence matters. You bring good to the planet and people around you. Getting help can be scary, it will be hard, but it will help...and it's definitely the right thing to do.

Help
TWLOHA http://twloha.com/find-help/local-resources
Trevor Lifeline (24/7) 866-488-7386
NCPL 1-800-273-8255

For You Not Against You

Church...and by that I don't mean a building, or a denomination or a para-church organization. I mean THE church. The one that believes there is a God, that believes that God longs for relationship with us, that He sent His Son Jesus to earth, that Jesus modeled the disciple life and then became the ultimate sacrifice for our sins so that we didn't have to be separated from God forever. That church.

The church that reads "Love your neighbor as yourself"
The church that reads "Go into all the world..."
The church that reads "For God so loved the world..."

The church that is so busy in your political posturing and finger pointing and condemnation and making sure the world knows what you are against that you forgot to tell them what you are for, what God is for...and what He told you to be about.

The church that is so busy circling the wagons and protecting itself that it is losing a battle for your children.

The church that needs to know when you are so incredibly loud in your condemnation of Miley Cyrus that you forget to tell the teenagers in your church that God loves her, you are alienating them. Because they feel that judgement on themselves. They are struggling with their sexuality and what the media is telling them and wanting to be accepted and instead of opening a dialogue with them you are picking up your bullhorn.

And  you are losing them.

When you are so busy denouncing same sex marriage as the downfall of all marriages and you are dehumanizing the LGBT community as the "enemy" and the teenagers in your church have friends who are LGBT or are wondering about themselves and you forget to tell them about grace.

You are losing them.

You are pointing your finger at so many but when Fred Phelps and his hate mongers protest the funerals of innocent victims or Pat Robertson makes the most ridiculous accusations about "special rings" and the deliberate spreading of HIV, you remain silent because you are afraid that to denounce them would negatively impact the church's freedom of speech or freedom of religion. So the world looks at them and thinks "this is what Christianity looks like" and you aren't saying any different. And the kids in your church don't want the world to think that that is what they are like so they no longer publicly affiliate themselves with the church or even as Christians.

You are losing them.

The church that believes you walk into a building on a Sunday morning wearing your church mask because the church is no longer a place to be hurting and broken but a place to act like we have it all together. So your kids no longer believe they can go into their youth group and confess they cheated on a test, that they struggle with self injury, that they don't know what to do with their life. They believe that they have to carry this fake "image" and it either breaks them or they refuse to wear it so they refuse to go to church. And they are hurting, depressed and falling...and the church is no longer the place to catch them.

We are losing them.

It is time. It's time to lay down our agenda and live what God told us to live. Love. We are supposed to be known for our love. Not our political party. How is it that if I'm a Christian, I'm automatically supposed to be conservative Republican? (I'm not) That I'm automatically against same sex marriage. Against gun control. Pro-Life (but that doesn't mean I'm against the death penalty or approved as a foster parent).

Don't get me wrong...part of this is the media's fault and I'm not even getting started on them (I've done it before...read further down in my blog posts).

But a big part of it is us...as the church.

It's time to preach the message that we were meant to preach. And that does not mean that we are okay with culture (I will fight the "pimp" word until my last breath). And it doesn't mean that we are conforming. And it doesn't mean we are okay with sin. It means that we are busier preaching what we are for than what we are against.

It means looking at our kids and saying
"We are for you."
"God is for you"
"God is longing for a relationships with you. Literally longing for it." And don't follow that up with but only if you don't do this, if you take out your gages, or get a haircut...

Let the church be a place for the broken again. Let the husband admit his battle with porn, the Mom confess her temper problem and the teenager cry out because her body doesn't look like what magazines tell her beauty is so she stopped eating.

You look at your youth group and you think "Not our kids."
But, yes. Your kids. Your kids are hurting. Confused by the messages they get from the TV and music. And they need to know the church is the place to come to confront all of that...in love. That the church bands together not to fight against the world but to fight for it. That we were called out by God to go, preach the message of love to the world and make disciples. 

If we need to have a political message let it be one of justice. Fight for the oppressed, the impoverished, the widow, the orphan. Fight for our kids.

Make no mistake. The enemy is after them. And if we aren't paying attention...and as a church, we are failing to pay attention...then little by little...

We will lose them.

Parenting

I'm no expert on parenting.
I mean...you think I would be. I've been doing it a while.
But I'm not.

And, to be honest, I distrust most of those who would call themselves "expert". Especially if they call themselves experts at single parenting having never been one or a part of a single parent household (And it doesn't count if your wife grew up in a single parent household. That makes her the expert.)

Here's why I find the idea of parenting expert suspect...
Parenting is new every day. And it differs with each child. And there are always going to be situations where you find your self going "Oh my God, what do I do now?" or "HOW did we get here?" or "What am I supposed to say to make this better???" or "Who the heck is this person that looks like my child but just talked like that to me?" (Can I get an "Amen"?) And you are going to think through all the parenting books you've read through the years...and come up empty. You rely on your heart, your mind, what you know about your child, and your relationship.

Sometimes you get it right. Sometimes you get it wrong. Sometimes the thing that worked the day before doesn't work today.

The last couple of weeks, I've actually gotten a few things right so I'm feeling pretty confident in my abilities. I figured, before I screw it up and am back to blogging in parenting S.O.S mode, I'd share.

Unconditional Love
Recently a friend of mine with a newborn told me of her desire to get it "perfect" and I had to laugh. I remember the days I read all the "What To Expect When You are Expecting" type books and had visions of my perfectly clean, cutely dressed children playing with their building blocks while I prepared the most wonderful dinners and bake from scratched cookies. In my dreams I never spanked my children, never yelled at them and certainly never curled up in a ball on my bed fervently praying that their therapy bills as adults weren't too astronomical. I know those parents. I'm not one of them. But I have learned the value of looking at my kids and telling them "I screwed up. And I'm sorry."

It might be the second most important thing I do. (First being teach them relationship with Jesus) And here is why. In looking at my children and telling them I am fallible, that I screw up, and that I need to apologize I teach them two things. First of all, that you don't have to be perfect. That you mess up and people love you anyway. In knowing that I mess up and they love me anyway, they are learning it is okay to mess up...and that I will love them regardless. This idea of unconditional love, of grace, should be a message kids who grow up in the church are getting loud and clear...but it isn't. In fact, I believe that the church in general is so busy teaching out kids what we are against, we are forgetting or aren't bothering to teach them what we are for, what God is for and what we are called to do...love. (More on that later) Teaching our kids that our love for them isn't based on their behavior or grades or accomplishments means they are more confident in their identity and less at risk of abusive behaviors (at their own hands or someone else's) and more likely to succeed at whatever they do.

Also, teaching them that it is okay to make mistakes...but we own up to them. We say I'm sorry. We are accountable for our actions and the consequences. This is not only about teaching them about responsibility (which they need) but also how to build healthy relationships.

Time
I have to confess that at 17 and 18, I'd sort of assumed my kids were growing out of their need and desire to spend a lot of time with me. And, to be honest, figured that my summer of unemployment had probably given them more time than they'd ever wanted to be around me. I abandoned the notion of taking my kids on individual "dates" some time ago because we spend so much time together. (We do spend a lot of time together...especially at theatre.) Last week, I found out exactly how wrong I was and had two of the best days with my kids that I'd had in a long time. For Trey, it meant he took me "Walker Stalking." This is a thing. For real. It's a group of people who are huge fans of the Walking Dead and hang out at filming locations in order to meet cast members. This particular group has strict rules and ethics...in other words, no one or nothing is allowed to "spoil" the season so you don't take pictures of walkers, cast in costumes, etc. We didn't get to meet anyone but we did see Carl, Michonne (if I didn't spell that right, Trey is going to kill me) and several walkers (makeup is crazy good on those zombies). And Trey took me to all the sites I needed to see in "Woodbury" (aka Senoia). For Embree, it was hanging out in Little Five Points (specifically Junkman's Daughter because she fell in love with the place....I knew she would!) and seeing a show at Horizon. Something clicked with my kids again and that something that I thought was missing because they were growing up was really missing because they needed me, my time, my attention, my enjoyment of things important to them.

Confessions
It is universally acknowledged that crisis of faith, identity or crisis in general never occur at "normal" times of the day. And if it isn't universally acknowledged, it should be. Teenagers have them. I'm incredibly lucky/blessed that when mine have them, they usually come to me. They know they can talk to me about anything and that if I'm not okay with everything, I'll try to be so that we can talk through it. That doesn't mean I'm permissive. It means I create a safe atmosphere. And sometimes, creating a safe atmosphere means telling your kids things or admitting things to your kids that you never thought you would...just so they know they are not alone, as weird as they thought they were, or a freak of nature. Use discretion...and they probably don't need details. But be willing to tell your kids some of the things you'd rather they didn't know. Be honest about what you learned from it. But be willing to be imperfect so that they can use that to not only connect with you but use that knowledge in the process of figuring themselves out. You will end up talking about things you are uncomfortable with...sex, questions of faith, drugs...

But I'm telling you that if you aren't talking to your kids about these things in an honest, open way. If you aren't being real with your kids...someone else is...and that someone else might not be telling them things you'd want them to learn. And that someone might be a friend, the internet, or some random guy at the bus stop. You aren't protecting your children when you don't talk to them. You are leaving them vulnerable. And there is a huge difference between lecturing them and talking to them. So, if you are wondering why your kids aren't talking to you...make sure you are talking to them.

Parenting is messy. It's sticky. And sometimes downright perilous. Give yourself some grace. Be willing to talk to your kids, tell them you know you don't always get it right, but that you always love them. It's a pretty safe bet they love you back.

The "P" Word

Throughout history there have been words created to demean, demoralize, and hurt groups of people. In my own lifetime, I have heard the "N" word (sorry, my Grandma raised me right and I can't even type it let alone say it out loud!) meant to degrade persons of color, "retard" used to mean stupid and other degrading things, "faggot" or "gay" no longer a bundle of sticks or a happy state of being but despised and further deteriorating when a rap artist used a lame excuse to avoid being labeled homophobic and "gay" suddenly began to mean "uncool" or "stupid"

Thankfully, culture has slowly changed. Public announcements are created. We come to understand that our words matter, that they have an impact. That what we say creates a culture. And that culture can create good...or bad.

"Pimp"

I've been told today that I need to grow up, that I am fighting a losing battle and that my crusade against the word is ineffective in the fight against sex trafficking. I don't believe you.

Our words matter and our words create a culture. The acceptance of the word "pimp" in our culture and society means that we water down and accept what a "pimp" really is. The use of the word "pimp" to mean "cool" or "bling" means that we create an atmosphere where it is cool to be a pimp. There are books and songs that glorify the "pimpin' lifestyle" while the word "hoe" is meant to degrade and demean.

That means we have more sympathy for the trafficker than we do the trafficked! You may protest but that is exactly what message is being spread through our media, music and marketing tools.

That is why when a merchandise store creates a sale and a marketing technique that focuses on high school and middle school students and they use the word "pimp" (as in "Pimp Your Packs"), I am so outraged I could scream and cry at the same time.

I'm told this won't fix anything...and maybe it won't, today. But our kids, the stores they shop from, and them pimps themselves need to hear this message. And slowly, it will change. If we stop ignoring the issue and take action. It will change. It will take time, but that's okay.

I have faith. I have history to hold on to as proof of success that came before. I hope I can convince you of the same.

Hot Topic sent out the email and focused their back to school sale on a number of items meant to decorate back packs. They call it "Pimp Your Pack"

I created a petition to tell them it's not okay.
http://chn.ge/1dnnsiP

You can also call them at 1-800-892-8674

PS I've been "trolled" enough already today. Feel free to disagree with me but get nasty and I will delete your comments. Thanks for understanding.

I love theatre. I mean...I love theatre.
I've tried to describe how and why I love theatre but it seems sort of impossible. Part of it is because of the emotions and how theatre reflects life. I've always loved stories...in books, the stories my grandparents shared, tales of courage and love...theatre does something that movies can't...the glass barrier is removed and you are fully able to connect with the characters and their stories. And good theatre, when it is over, leaves you feeling something like Dorothy back in Kansas or Alice returned from Oz. Happy to be home, but wistful...wishing to be back, just for a little while.

I realize this makes no sense to some of you.

That's okay. I get it. I don't understand golf, NASCAR, or decaf coffee.

For those of you who don't get it, just trust me. For those of you who do, can I get an "amen"? There are shows that stay with you for days afterward. Sometimes it's because you can't get the songs out of your head (I don't recommend singing any song from Caberet at work...especially if you happen to work in a Christian missions organization), . Sometimes the character. Sometimes...just...everything.

Yesterday, Embree and I went to see "Every Tongue Confess" at Horizon Theatre. You think after several weeks of working as House Managment Intern and seeing the audiences come out, overhearing the music, etc I would have had a better idea of what I was about to see. But I didn't. I knew some of the songs by heart, the premise of the stories, the actors (I'm absolutely in love with Minka Wiltz) and I'd heard the audience's reaction...and still underestimated the show.

People! Every emotion...and I mean every emotion is wrecked during this show-you laugh, cry, feel horrified, hopeless, brave, stunned, convicted...! The music is interwoven so well it's not like most musicals where you think "oh now we have a dance number" but it continues the dialogue. The play itself is hard to describe but the setting is a town in Alabama in 1990's and someone is burning churches, well, black churches. The characters stories are told and intertwined into a somewhat surprising ending. The writer, Marcus Gardley, uses mystical realism which is not always my thing since it can come across as cheesy but here is artistic and beautiful.

At one point, Mother Sister is preaching and myself and the two ladies sitting to my right were so caught up in the story, we thought we were in church as we murmured "humhmm" and "amen" and "that'll preach" Bree and I had to hold hands several times throughout and once or twice I caught myself not breathing.

But the thing I love even more than the power of the story it told, was the power of the truths it told. The fact that "sometimes miracles can be staring us right in the face", that gossip is as dangerous as a blade, and that "the root of prejudice is fear"

The root of prejudice is fear.
One of the most powerful moments in the show, as Elder tells his tale of the white mother and her son who come into the black church asking for a handout. The mother has been revealed an adulteress. They are in need. And the church, afraid, won't help them.

"We were afraid. And the root of prejudice is fear. So we offered them salvation instead. Said it was the Christian thing to do." And then they sent them on their way.

I think I owe Marcus Gardley an apology. When I read he was from California, I scoffed at the idea he could possibly understand or write about Southern life/issues with a deep understanding. I was wrong.

I'm also really excited about the next show coming up in September at Horizon Theatre...a play written especially for Horizon Theatre and inspired by the refugee community in Clarkston, GA. Check out the details on their website: http://www.horizontheatre.com/show-thirdcountry.htm. This will be especially interesting to all my advocate friends...and for the record, I've already told the Co-Artistic Director, Jeff, that we'd all be coming! Bring money for the cookies!!!

Practicing What I Preach

I have deliberately not published anything on my blog about the Trayvon Martin case because emotions were so high and I don't know if I could have said anything anyone wasn't saying better or more clearly. But the events of the other night have me thinking about it and are central to some of the things I want to say. So here goes...

The only black hoodie my son owns has the Shakespeare Tavern logo on the back of it. That being said, had it been my son walking down the street in a black hoodie that night, I can't 100% say he would still be alive today. But I know, for a fact, that he had a better chance than Trayvon Martin did.

I also believe, had that been my son, that more care would have been taken in the investigation. A harder look taken at George Zimmerman's attitude, disobeying a 911 operator, failing to identify himself, having previous assault arrest record, etc. I believe the witnesses would have been questioned more carefully. I believe my son's hoodie would have been handled with more care. Placed in a paper bag instead of a plastic one. That is the part that bothers me the most...they put the hoodie in a plastic bag knowing it would contaminate the DNA evidence. Was it carelessness...or an attitude that this case was done and no further investigation was required?

The thing that frustrates me the most is the media's polarizing representation of both Trayvon Martin and George Zimmerman. If either the conservative or liberal media (FYI people, they both have an agenda.) had taken this opportunity to report facts and open up dialogue, perhaps change could occur. But instead they go to their corners, scream, point fingers and twist details to suit their version. And we the people, follow after them blindly.

Here are three things I think we need to discuss in light of the Trayvon Martin case:
1) Discrimination...it is so much more than just a black/white thing. I realize George Zimmerman identified himself as white but he has a Hispanic background as well and we desperately need to take a more thorough look at racism, where it comes from and how to change it.

2) Culture...Trayvon Martin thought guns and drugs were cool. Where did he get that idea? A culture that tells him so. Music that glorifies drugs, violence, gangs, mistreatment of women. To the upper middle class mom driving a minivan and wondering why "those people" listen to "that kind of music" I'd bet money your kids are listening to it as well. To the parent who is relieved their kid listens to country music...have you listened to the lyrics? How many songs refer to women's body parts as "money makers" or talk with glee about smoking pot and drinking?

3) Our own prejudices...don't try to sugar coat it, justify it, or ignore it. For many of us, it is a culture or environment. For others, a family tradition. And for others...well, just plain ignorance. For all of us, it needs to be faced and dealt with so that we are free to live in community.

The other night I was driving home from the theatre and just a couple of miles from my house there was a man walking down the road. I noticed that he wasn't wearing a shirt, that he was a black male, and he was walking funny. I've had years of experience in watching a drunk man walking but this guy wasn't drunk. He walked like he was hurting. He was also walking on the road as opposed to the side walk. I couldn't tell his age since he was walking in the same direction I was driving so I couldn't see his face.

I wanted to stop. I wanted to help. But I was afraid. And I made myself ask the question, would I have been less afraid if the guy had been white? For a second, I was afraid of what I was going to find out about myself but I can honestly say, no. I was scared either way. But I knew that I was supposed to offer the guy a ride. By then, I'd already passed him so I had to turn around. He was actually an older gentleman. I pulled up and asked if he needed a ride. He seemed alarmed...and then puzzled. He told me he was okay, that he was almost home. I said okay and started to roll up the window. He wanted to know "why did you ask if I needed a ride?" I explained that I'd passed by, knew he was hot, and had observed he was walking like he was in pain. He admitted his legs were tired and hurting...he'd been working and then had to walk home. I again offered to give him a ride the rest of the way. It took more time than I thought for him to get that I just wanted to do something nice. He asked if I wanted him to clean my car. I said no but thank you and explained I have teenagers who do things like that. He asked if I wanted my grass cut. I think in this conversation he was trying to figure out what the white woman wanted and I started thinking he was in need of money. I explained again that me and my kids did that kind of stuff, that I didn't have the money to pay anyone to do it and if he was sure he didn't need a ride, I was going to finish my way home.

When I got home, I told the kids about it and we talked about how hard it was for the man to understand I just wanted to be nice. Then Trey remembered something. Getting on Facebook he showed me a meme that said "I want to live in a world where George Zimmerman stopped and asked Trayvon Martin if he needed a ride home." Looking at me, Trey said "You are part of creating that world Mom"

Prayers

There once was a man who desperately needed money.
And every day, he got on his knees and prayed:
"Lord, please, please, please, please let me win the lottery"
Every day...for months...the same prayer.
Until one day the Lord said:
"Son, please, please, please, please...buy a ticket!"

I have spent a lot of time praying lately. For direction, for a financial miracle (something like bills with Benjamin Franklins falling from the sky like manna? Ha!), for my kids. But I've also been aware and praying for friends as well.

For the ones who desperately want to get pregnant.
And the ones who are beginning the adoption process.
For the ones suffering from physical pain and illness.
And the ones suffering from mental and emotional pain.
To the ones who just found out their parents are ill.
And those that have lost their parents and miss them terribly.
For the special, amazing friends looking for the "what's next" and "where to go"
And those that have embarked on new adventures.

A lot of time, my prayers are what a friend used to call "popcorn prayers" (brief prayers as I go along my day), some of the time it is time set aside during the day to focus on prayer, today...today I want to be all about prayer. And for many, I want you to know I am praying for you. For others, if you need prayer, feel free to let me know. It would be privilege and honor to pray for you as well.

Blessings.