Category Archives: hands & feet

‘Merica, blessed to be a blessing

It’s our week in the land of the free and the home of the brave.

The week when we dust off our patriotism, unfurl our star-spangled banners, and hitch our pride a little higher celebrating the land and country we love.

‘Merica  A people united by an air of fierce independence and the ideal of unrestrained opportunity…  a strange mix even on the best of days.

Somewhere at sometime, someone once said, “Necessity is the Mother of Invention.” Experience has taught me truth in this and that very often, Hunger is her muse.

It’s a lesson my husband and I learned well through  years of trying to keep a few pennies ahead in the positive column as self(un)employed artists raising and homeschooling a family.

There have been some really “creative” periods over the years and I sorta pride myself in my ability to “make do”…DO.  I tend to think I can manage on very little and find alternative ways to make up the lack. Second-hand is fine; homemade is better. By the grace of God, we’ve always had everything we’ve needed and most of what we’ve wanted as well.

So if you asked about my current state of affairs, I  gladly admit to being humbly content…sweetly satisfied. Blessed….without a hint of materialism or an air of entitlement in my soul.

Not much anyway.
Well…maybe just a titch.
Ok… a titch and a half!

I don’t like to think so. I don’t like to think I’m all that materialistic  or have much of an entitlement attitude  but a recent event has caused me to stop and “check my privilege”.

Allergies. It began with allergies.

Nasally stuff, you know… dust, dander and the what-not that plagues us here in the South. Nothing major but we’ve kept it at bay with a little red pseudophed in the mornings.

It works.

Sadly, we live in a world where evil seems to have a free reign, so this formerly over the counter medicine has moved up under tighter regulation. Now you have to show ID, sign for it,  only so much can be bought, yada, yada, yada.

So we do it. No biggie…right?
Until it seems we get “profiled”.

On our way to an outdoor church event, dressed down and a little raggety for outdoor play, we decide to stop and get this and a few things before the pharmacy closes. No dice. The pharmacist on duty cites a “new regional policy” and nothing we say can sway her decision.

Ya’ll…. she’s serious.   I’m LIV-id— the “trying-not-to-cry-I’m-so-stinkin-mad” kind of livid.

Polite, but point blank I ask why, after months of shopping and following the rules at this store is it suddenly not OK.

Looking at me she replies, “It’s the new policy because there are a lot of dirt-bag meth heads around here.”

Whoa….excuse me?!

We left empty-handed. A follow-up with the National company left us wanting for “justice” because they leave it to the discretion of their pharmacists to make these types of policy calls.  An apologetic call from the store’s manager confirms the same.

I stew and fume for days.
I mean.. seriously?!??!   Do I look like a “dirt-bag meth head” to YOU?!?!
Wait….don’t answer that.

Wait…. because it really doesn’t matter.

Calming down, I realized that my problem was not so much that I didn’t get what I thought I needed, or that there was the distinct probability we’d been labeled. The problem went deeper.

I was angry because I didn’t get what I wanted AND the respect I felt I deserved along with it.

I was angry because I don’t like being told no.
I don’t like being told I can’t have something.

I have “rights” you know!
This is ‘MERICA dang it!

Well, apparently some “rights” weigh in more heavily than others and the abuses of some can mar the rights of us all. Evil is like that.

I was shocked to see  the ugly rear up in my heart so immediately and self-righteously. Suddenly, my eyes are opened to how, even in America, others are dealing with this every day as they are denied a good or service based on their appearance or other such determinant.

Hidden slightly below that realization is my neglect to see,  no less acknowledge,  how blessed…. fortunate— dare I say…. LUCKY  I am to live in a country and a location where right down the street I have access to *everything* I need and most of what I want. Medicine. Milk.   At least 100 varieties of ice-cream.

I forget that WAY too often.
I seldom stop to think about it.
And I need to think about it.

Not feel guilty, but to acknowledge the bounty of my blessings and all I have to share.

Holy Fear

It’s been pounding in my heart for weeks now— this story and revelation have been further compounded by the numbers of people I’ve encountered who really do not realize the nature of this story in Africa.

I don’t blame them….part of the reason we will go is to tell the story and show what’s being done to help.  It’s a tall order.    Complicated.

Confusion marked with ignorance or fueled by propaganda and corruption is allowing HIV/AIDS to decimate communities, families and almost an entire generation.

Even when medicines are available, caregivers, transportation, logistics,
clean water, food and …honesty…are not.

Health care and humanitarian aid organizations  are doing what they can to keep up with the crisis, to care for and educate those in need but the numbers are staggering. Don’t misunderstand; the situation is not under control.

And yet….this is their DAILY life.. ..what they know and surprisingly, in many cases, we have been told that the people are joyful, thankful… living in gratefulness for what they have.

And those who are sick, in need and near the end, when someone arrives with a hospice bucket,  they are so stinkin’ blessed by a few tubes of Carmex and some socks. Shoot, they’re blessed by the bucket itself!

So yeah… what was I… sitting in my 2400-sq foot, air-conditioned home with indoor plumbing, 2 pillows and a comfortable bed, 5 cats, 2 dogs, a garden and plenty of food to spare,               …what was I complaining about?

I really don’t remember.

Blessed to be a blessing,Lorretta signature

butt dust

In one form or facet, for as long as I can remember, I’ve had an artistic bent. It’s my “shape”, you know? And it was always encouraged and strangely embodied in my rather “rough and ready” mother.

Part of that shape found it’s expression through music. While I’ve never been outrageously good, I’ve always joked that what I lack in true talent, I’ll make up for with enthusiasm!  However  from grade school to the present, music has been a part of my life and I’ve been a part of many choirs and ensembles.

Many experiences were less than stellar but all of them taught me something. Some were quite memorable, such as when we were members of a large Episcopal congregation.

It was here that I learned one of the most important lessons of my life…..

butt dust

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Ornate yet understated, the church’s surrounding artistic community lent itself in such a way that anyone could fold into the arts somehow. Several choirs ensured there was no shortage of grand and glorious music.

“High-church” choral, evensong and chants, call and response; Psalms echoed off high wooden rafters and spilled across the stone-tiled aisles. Gorgeous, candle-lit and in-censual affairs.  Time spent here shaped my appreciation of  both music and worship. Lessons learned through practice and preparation still shapes how I approach worship today.

Let me tell you more…

demanding a sacrifice

Twice.

Last week, I read not once but twice in the book of Matthew (vs. 9:13 and 12:7)  where Jesus says,

I desire mercy and not sacrifice.”

For some reason, this statement has hung about the fringes of my conscience ever since.

What does THAT mean?!?
It’s LENT for Pete’s sake.
Sacrifice is the “reason for the season”, right?

So… I’ve pondered greatly. I’ve tossed and turned mightily and while I’m no closer to crystal, some things have become more clear– especially in considering of the nature of sacrifice– and the merciful smashing of my personal idols

In both cases, Jesus is speaking to the Pharisees…the “religious-minded” of every age, who like to split spiritual hairs and set others up for failure, especially if at the same time, they can seem more exalted, wise and obedient.

Comparison. Each time, it’s a comparison-based moment of UGLY,  holier than thou, “nanny, nanny boo boo-istic” theology.

It’s ME-ology masking itself as theology and weighing down the “other” with too much to prove and  burdens too great to bear. Trust me, it’s easier to do than we might think.

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I don’t think Jesus is pooh-poohing sacrifice. Not at all. There are plenty of moments throughout the Gospels where Jesus points to the need for DEEP sacrifice in the life of anyone claiming to belong to Him:

Let the dead bury the dead, don’t look back; follow me.
You lack one thing: sell everything, give it to the poor and follow me.
Deny yourself, take up your cross daily and follow me.

So in wrestling with these thoughts, I’ve come to the conclusion that Jesus is teaching about where true sacrifice is born: from mercy and compassion–not without sacrifice,

but always BEFORE sacrifice.

It’s sacrifice that

  • considerately cares about and  “does unto others” first.
  • doesn’t draw attention to itself but lays down it’s “whatever” in favor of the other.
  • is so heart-bound and Rock-anchored that it can rejoice in the triumphs of others able to overcome  obstacles  once blocking the way to knowing  the Father.

I’m looking hard at this issue because I haven’t been so good at this in the past.
Because ummmmm,  I’m not so good at this yet.
Because, although I hope I’m getting better, I don’t ever want to be that ugly again.

Because even if I have only been “in my heart bad” that’s what Jesus sees: my unmerciful heart….not my “sacrificial” outward behavior.

Ouch.

Putting others in their place

This next weekend I have the privilege of serving alongside some truly amazing women in our community from many different churches and denominations. For this whole weekend, we are setting aside our differences and our over-lapping “ologies”, coming together to serve about 50 girls from all walks of life and to show them what it looks like to be

REAL women who love Jesus for realz.

It’s the third year we get to host this community event and for at least two reasons,  I’m more excited this year than ever before.

First, things are getting changed up a bit so that in addition to our local community “mission” projects, we are introducing an opportunity to learn about Sole Hope and inviting them to a big-fat shoe cutting party! It really excites me to be a part of broadening  their understanding of what it means to serve people they will never see, in the name of Jesus….for them to begin to see how compassion and sacrifice go hand in hand and it can begin with them too.

And… the worship.

I’m so looking forward to the worship this year. I need it. I’m craving it. God has been chipping away at my veneer since this time last year and I am feeling so deeply, His heart for the world…for His daughters. I have to confess that maybe in years past it’s been 2-parts worship and one-part performance. I just don’t feel that way anymore.

Y’all …
I have to get to Jesus….
I want to see His face and..for these girls to see it too.

 

One of the songs we are singing is Matt Redman’s “Heart of Worship” and if you don’t know the story behind the song, you can read about it here. Oh my heart.

I’ve been paying close attention to the words of these songs we bring to worship and  they’re wrecking me word by word and note by note.

How could I dare sing them if I don’t mean it?

But this one line in the song that gets me every time:

“I’ll bring you more than a song…I’ll bring you more than a song.”
What more can I bring? Worship that’s based in

Humility.
Mercy.
Compassion.
Sacrifice.
More….of Him and less of me as often as possible.

 Compassion is..

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That’s what it means to come back to the heart of worship… opening and releasing myself to His care and allowing  more of His mercy to enter into the heart of every moment of sacrifice because it’s really all about Him: Jesus.

Please pray for this event…these girls… that they may come to know Him just a little bit better through experiencing their churches, their mothers, their neighbors, teachers and friends…lay it down before Him in a weekend of total surrender and worship.

 

My heart will sing
No other name;
J
esus, Jesus.

with compassion,Lorretta signature