Emma & Ellie were nestled in the coffee house booth when Emma’s friend, Kat, walked in. “Hey, what are you up to?” Emma asked. “Just grabbing a latte after the protest,” Kat replied. Ellie furrowed her eyebrows a bit and said, “The political protest on the square?” “Yep,” Kat answered. “We’ve got to care for and support this part of society.” “Helping people is the way to go,” Emma said, then noticed something on Kat’s arm. “New tat?” Kat smiled and showed off the skull with a knife through the eye socket on her lower arm. “It is! What do you think? I like it but my parents say it’s a little gruesome.” Ellie raised one eyebrow, silently agreeing with Kat’s parents. Emma chuckled and shook her head. “It’s definitely you, and you know I love you.” Kat chuckled and leaned over to Ellie. “I’m trying to talk her into getting one, something harmless like a bunny.” She winked at Emma and checked the time on her phone. “Okay, gotta run. I’ll see you next week. Love you, too, and it was good to meet you, Ellie.” “Same here,” Ellie replied, trying to not sound sarcastic. Kat walked to the counter to order. Ellie leaned forward in the booth. “Who was that?” “She’s my old roommate’s sister,” Emma replied. “We always got along better than the roommate and I did. She’s fun and interesting.” Ellie shook her head. “But you guys are complete opposites from each other in politics, lifestyle, and religion.” “Yeah, but those are details.” Ellie sat back in her seat. “Pretty big details. Do you just avoid talking about those subjects?” “No, we talk about them, but Kat isn’t just her politics or spiritual views. She is my friend and I love her for ALL the things she is. To focus on the one or two I’m not as comfortable with denies me the privilege of knowing her as a whole person.” Ellie’s eyes widened. “Doesn’t it infuriate you when she gets heated up about her politics?” “I don’t focus on how her politics differ from mine. If I did, I probably would get mad, but it wouldn’t be worth it to lose an awesome friend. We go deeper than the details. Yes, she is passionate about her politics, but that’s head stuff. I focus on her heart, no matter what direction her passion takes.” “What do you have in common if not the details?" “We didn’t think we had much in common at first, but the more we got to know each other, the more we realized we share hopes, dreams, fears, wounds. It turns out we have a lot more in common than not. That is what bonds us.” Ellie pondered this. “I guess, with you and me, we share many of the same details but also quite a few of the deeper things as well.” Emma smiled. “Absolutely. And I love you both.” #bethelove #deeperthanthedetails --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Thank you for reading, sharing, and commenting. If you’d like to receive these posts and updates in your inbox, please subscribe.
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He could feel them following him.
He stopped walking and bent over to tie his sandal. Out of the corner of his eye he saw them pause, whistling and looking around at the sky. He chuckled softly to himself. They’d never be good private investigators. He walked on, stopping to take in the view, check the position of the sun, clearly enjoying playing with them. Finally he decided to put them out of their misery. He turned directly to face them. Cocking his head to the side and smiling, he asked, “What do you want?” The two were gobsmacked. One’s face grew red and the other stammered a bit before spitting out, “Teacher, where are you staying?” The red-faced one smacked his companion’s arm. “Where are you staying? Seriously? THAT’S what you open with?” “Well, YOU weren’t saying anything. You left me there to…” “Fellas,” the teacher interrupted, laughing. “Come and see.” Honestly, if I were following someone and they caught me, I can’t say I’d have come up with any better response than they did. When I’m in awe of or intimidated by someone and get to speak to them face to face, I can barely remember my own name. And it’s really nice when that someone is gracious and kind to me, as Jesus was with these two. Even if they are the most gracious and most kind of all someones, I can’t imagine they would EVER up and invite me to come along. Can you think of anything more unwise, or unsafe, than telling someone you don’t know AT ALL, who is really kind of stalking you, who could potentially be a crazed axe-wielding groupie, to COME WITH YOU AND SEE WHERE YOU ARE STAYING? Wiser and safer responses could include, “Nope, that’s top secret info,” and “I’ll have my people email your people.” Another option would be to give them an address, part ways, then follow them for a while to see if one of them had an axe in his robe. But Jesus? He invited them to come with him directly to where he was staying. Jesus is fearless. He laughs in the face of danger. He is love in action. He knows that if he is going to be God With Us, then arm’s length isn’t going to cut it. He’s about people. He’s about connection. He’s about turning hearts back to the Father. He came to gather up everyone he can, lead them to his Dad, and rejoice as they are adopted as his brothers and sisters. “Come and see,” he says. And the guys do. They spend the rest of the day with him. One of those two was Andrew. Do you know what Andrew did first thing after leaving Jesus? He went and found his brother, Simon Peter, and brought him to God With Us. Except this time, instead of hanging back, Andrew ran back. I’ll bet Peter’s arm was sore from being dragged. Meeting Jesus can make you want to run back, too. Not sure? Come and see. #bethelove #heisnotwhatyouthink #loveinaction #stalkersurprise ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Thank you for reading, sharing, and commenting. If you’d like to receive these posts and updates in your inbox, please subscribe. My gut was telling me but my head wasn’t quite sure. Finally something they said flipped the switch, and I knew what I had to do. I unfriended, blocked, and under my breath wished them well in the sham of a life they were living, bless their hearts.
I’m getting better at recognizing false friends, also known as manipulators, users, those with ulterior motives. It hurts when someone you believed was your friend really wasn’t. And of course it drags up memories of other friendships that have been lost or didn’t work out, for whatever reason. I’m not too bad about setting boundaries while in a friendship, it’s afterward that I need to work on--the rehashing, the what ifs, the wondering what I did wrong, the whole nine. A large part of my purpose is to love the people God puts in front of me. Sometimes He isn’t the one who brings them, but I don’t usually know that until later. And while the wounds begin to heal into scars I remind myself of two things:
I remember hearing about a woman who had been left blind after an attack. Later she was asked if she resented the person who did this to her. “No,” she said. “He had one night of my life. He will never have another minute.” I have decided that bad things, dicey situations, and awful people will come into my life, but the effects of their behavior will be momentary at best. No one gets to control my mind, heart, and future but God and me. It’s not always easy to do, but I have a little thing that helps. It’s called forgiveness. It frees me from their control. Forgiveness is not saying that what they did is okay or that it didn’t hurt. It’s not a wall I put up to block future pain, or a force field that deflects it. It’s more of a sponge. Forgiveness absorbs the pain, the betrayal, the questions. Then I take it to God and ask Him to rinse it with His love. And when the pain is rinsed away and wrung out--sometimes quickly, sometimes over time--it makes room for healing, and freedom. Which makes for a whole lot better future than continuing to “bless their hearts” under my breath. #bethelove #forgiveness #fakefriends ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Thank you for reading, sharing, and commenting. If you’d like to receive these posts and updates in your inbox, please subscribe. I need to warn you, we use a lot of ’blue language’ on set.”
I shrugged. “I won’t judge you for using it if you won’t judge me for not.” The director smiled. Thus was the acknowledgment of mutual respect and freedom that launched me into the world of independent film. For my Christian friends, I feel I must clarify, this was a “secular” independent film. There are Christian films being made in the area, that’s just not the plot God dropped me in. It’s been a fun, life-giving, mind-expanding few years, and I’ve loved every minute. It’s put me in touch with a wide variety of fun, interesting, intelligent, passionate, hard-working, gifted people…the majority of which do not share my faith. It’s a fine line to walk and one that, sadly, I’ve had far too little practice in and haven’t always done well. My guiding principle has been that I’m here to love the people God puts in front of me, and let God do the rest. Have I loved these new friends well? Could I love better? And most importantly, are they seeing Jesus in me or just seeing me? Which got me to wondering, if Jesus worked on a small, independent film, how would He love people? What would He do? And what would He not do? Here’s my storyboard: He would arrive early. He would do what he was asked to do, without complaining or arguing or even so much as an eye-roll. He would smile and laugh. A lot. And they wouldn’t be patronizing smirks, but would reach clear into his eyes. He would be sure everyone else got lunch before he did. He might even bring lunch to a few who couldn’t get a break to eat. He would go out of his way to help anyone who needed it, even looking for ways to help. He would make a meaningful connection, however brief, with each person he came across. Most would then want to have him over for a fish fry (he might even bring two fish or some bread…). He would answer any religious questions he was asked in a gentle, honest way. He would not spark religious debate by turning every conversation into a religious one out of nowhere. He would not cower, but when yelled at, ignored, dismissed, even abused, he would continue to work hard, forgive, and move on. And I’m pretty sure “blue language” wouldn’t bother him one little bit. #loveinaction #heisnotwhatyouthink #bethelove --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Thank you for reading, sharing, and commenting. If you’d like to receive these posts and updates in your inbox, please subscribe. Years ago, my mother-in-law was at the homecoming parade when she heard a very faint mewing. She looked around and saw a tiny orange and white striped kitten. It was scrawny and dirty, with half of its whiskers singed off and eyes that were clouded and messy. Being a great lover of animals, especially cats, she adopted this one, took her to the vet then home for food, a warm bed and toys. She wound up simply calling her Little Cat.
Once she was healed and growing, Little Cat discovered she liked to climb up jeans and scamper about. She provided snuggles, laughter, and the occasional scratch or two. While it helped that Little Cat was stinking cute, it wasn’t her cuteness that determined her worth in my mother-in-law’s eyes (although it certainly didn’t hurt). Little Cat was worthy of love, healing, and life simply because she was a living creature. I know that not everyone is Animal People, but there is no reason we can’t all be People People. Yes, people can be messy, mean, malcontents. We can be insecure, inept, insufficient, and inefficient. We can be rough and rude, thoughtless, heartless, soulless. Broken and wounded, lashing out beyond reason or imagination. But even with our myriad of flaws, faults, and failures, we are still…human. In our very most basic state we are worthy of love. Of purpose. Of dignity and respect. Of a chance, a second chance, a millionth chance. Some would have us believe we are nothing more than matter and energy, cells and chemicals, and therefore worth very little. I disagree. We reason and learn. We love. We breathe. We ARE. And that’s enough. So remember, the next person you see on the street, that you don’t necessarily have to give them a home, but a little love and respect can go a long way—singed whiskers and all. #bethelove #goodsamaritan ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Thank you for reading, sharing, and commenting. If you’d like to receive these posts and updates in your inbox, please subscribe. In my early adulthood, my best friend moved away. This was long before the advent of social media--no Instagram, Snapchat, or Facebook. Neither of us were phone people. We had busy lives, and we lost touch.
I’ve really never had anyone to replace her. A few years after that, I had several similar friendship losses, seemingly one on top of the other. Those only served to remind of and reinforce the pain. Sometimes it’s just the way life works. Some people, perhaps most people, are only meant to be in your life for a season. Unfortunately, knowing that doesn’t make it any easier. My heart was just beginning to process and recover when, miraculously, my best friend was back, only this time, we knew it wouldn’t be for very long. Part of me was thrilled! We had always picked up where we left off. After all, SHE was my BEST FRIEND. But the larger part of me was cautious. I knew it was temporary. I knew she would leave again. We could have had lunches and squeezed in some time here and there, but…I chose not to engage. I couldn’t bear the thought of getting close only to relive the agony. By the time I decided it was worth the risk and was brave enough to try again, she was gone, just like that. I had missed my opportunity. Fear had felt truer than Love, so I listened to it. I trusted my past more than our potential future. Worst of all, I listened to my wounded heart without even considering my friend’s. I felt stupid. Sad. Cowardly. I was furious at myself. I’ve heard the phrase “choose your hard.” Either choice you make is going to be hard. It’s hard to get the degree. It’s also hard to not be able to provide for your family. It’s hard to resist temptation. It’s also hard to face the consequences. Which hard is easier, or better, for you? In this situation, it wasn’t choose my hard as much as choose my heartache. It was the difference between digging my chest out with a dull knife or a sharp spoon. I could have chosen to build on our love and friendship, even knowing she would be gone again. Instead, I chose the heartache of regret by trying to protect myself. I never took the time to see past my own pain and into her heart. It never occurred to me that it was hard for her to leave, and hard to come back. She had enjoyed our years together, too. I can only imagine that my lack of engagement made her feel rejected, abandoned, unloved. And now I have another hard choice. I can continue to let a wonderful friendship slip away, or I can connect and apologize and try to rebuild. You know, reading that now, it’s not such a hard choice after all. Hard choices lead to hard-aches, but I will risk that over listening to my hard head again. #bethelove #chooseyourheartache #loveanyway ____________________________________________________________________ Thank you for reading, sharing, and commenting. If you’d like to receive these posts and updates in your inbox, please subscribe. I’ve always been envious of storytellers. There is a difference between being a writer and a storyteller. I can write a blogpost or speech, even a how-to. You want practical examples? I’m your woman. Action in a storyline? Not so much. There is also a difference between writing to be read, and writing to be watched. In a novel you can have characters sit around talking. In a visual medium, like TV, YouTube, or a movie, that puts an audience to sleep. “Show, don’t tell.” I’ve heard that phrase hundreds of times. Let’s say you have a character who is afraid of heights but has to climb a ladder… ***DISCLAIMER! I sent my original example to storyteller Lewis D. Chaney. He completely rewrote it. After comparing the two, I am using his version, because…well…if you read the original you would understand, but now you won’t have to. You’re welcome. *** Storyteller Version: If I write “he was afraid of heights”, you shrug and go, okay. That’s writing but to SHOW you the story, instead I write “he put his hands on the ladder, looked up and drew a sharp breath. The ladder seemed to extend to the clouds. His foot found the first step and he slowly began to climb. Half way up, shaking, he paused and looked down. His trembling, sweaty hands clutched the sides of the ladder and he began to hyperventilate”. You FELT that one, the same way a movie would show you that. Much better. Thank you, Lewis! And now, back to your regularly scheduled blog post: Show, don’t tell. Love is also show, don’t tell. I can tell you I love you. I can even gaze longingly at you from across the room. But isn’t it more meaningful if I show you? We can say we love the world and the people in it but unless our actions show it, our words are a resounding gong or clanging cymbal. If we say we love mankind but value some better than others based on skin color, political affiliation, clothing, where they live, anything other than the fact that they are a fellow human being, is that love? If we treat our fellow man with violence, verbal and emotional abuse, manipulation, and condescension, is that love? If we say any human being is “nothing but,” (gay, liberal, conservative, addict, poser, troll) then we treat them accordingly. Is that love? This is what love looks like: patient, kind, content, deprecating, humble, honoring, seeking to put others first, placating, forgiving, truthful, protecting, trusting, hopeful, hanging in there no matter what. This too: Love...has the hands to help others. It has the feet to hasten to the poor and needy. It has eyes to see misery and want. It has the ears to hear the sighs and sorrows of men. That is what love looks like. --Augustine of Hippo Love. It’s not just Show and Tell, it’s more Show than Tell. (credit to LDC for the last line, too) #bethelove #showlove ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Thank you for reading, sharing, and commenting. If you’d like to receive these posts and updates in your inbox, please subscribe. I promise not to share your address or info. “We’ve decided to join the Props Crew,” she said.
I was a high school sophomore. If I also joined the Props Crew, I wouldn’t have to walk home from school by myself, would get to spend time with my friends AND there would likely be cute boys. I was sold. That one decision changed my life. Props Crew (which we spelled Crue, after the group Motley Crue) was part of the Oak Park-River Forest High School Theatre Department and, according to the school’s website, it’s still going strong today. I met all kinds of new people and got to use cool things like glow tape and glue guns. The first production I worked on was the musical “Guys and Dolls.” As a new member of the crew I was assigned a couple of smaller tasks, one of which was to move a trash can during a scene change. During one tech week rehearsal, I somehow managed to not get that trash can moved. Erika, one of the dancers, very kindly took me aside and explained that if I didn’t move that trash can, it would be in the way of her entrance, which was what started the scene. The show literally could not go on if I did not do my job (I have since learned otherwise, but that’s another story). That was a huge lightbulb moment. By working backstage I could, for the first time in my life, contribute to something that lived and breathed, affected people and was a different experience each performance. I was welcomed and accepted. I had a purpose. We all need to be valued and loved for who we are. We were made to be in relationships—all kinds of relationships. We NEED others who support and encourage us. People are not optional, but integral. We also need purpose and not just to the betterment of ourselves, but for others. We need to participate in a story larger than our own. We need to be the piece that finishes the puzzle, the thread in the tapestry that allows the rest of the threads to be woven in around it, after it, because of it. Living in small, egocentric stories, leads to loneliness. Loneliness kills. Purpose saves. Belonging saves. Being loved and loving other people save. YOUR purpose always involves other people. Constantin Stanislavsky said that there are no small parts in theatre. There are also no small parts in life. Move the trash can. #bethelove #lovesaves ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Thank you for reading, commenting, and sharing! If you’d like to receive these posts and updates in your inbox, please subscribe. I promise not to share your address or info. .My coffee was getting cold and the waiter was giving me furtive glances. Where was my new friend? It was our first lunch together and we were supposed to meet 20 minutes ago.
I checked my texts again. Nothing. Maybe she’s stuck in traffic. But she could still text me. Maybe she’s talking on the phone and can’t text. I looked out at the parking lot again. Maybe she’s been in an accident. I furrowed my eyebrow. Maybe she forgot. But we confirmed yesterday…. Maybe she didn’t really want to come! I could feel my breath quicken. I even felt a little burning in my chest. That’s it! She stood me up and is too chicken to call me! Well, fine! I’m not going to play games like this! If I’m not important enough to let me know she doesn’t want to see me then why am I even here?! And then…she blew in. The seating hostess pointed in my direction and she hurried over. I was surprised to see her hair and makeup were disheveled. “Hey! What happened?” I asked. “I’ve spent 20 minutes looking for my phone! I never did find it!” she said. During the next 10 minutes I heard about the past 40, with her apologizing profusely several times. The more I listened, the worse I felt. I had gathered my “evidence,” put her on trial, and convicted her all before I laid eyes on her. There hadn’t been anything in our, albeit, short history to indicate she would stand me up, yet I had had followed my own baseless thoughts clear through to the worst possible conclusion. I also now had heartburn, a slight headache, and higher blood pressure. It would have been better to have given her the benefit of the doubt. According to dictionary.cambridge.org,, to give the benefit of the doubt is “to decide that you will believe someone, even though you are not sure that what the person is saying is true.” Another word: Trust. Like Love always trusts. (1 Corinthians 13:7) Rather than let my emotions run my mind, it would have been better to step back, look at the situation objectively, and trust that her heart toward me was good. Skepticism is fine, if there is a previous history. But can we not at least begin any interaction by assuming truth and goodwill? If we’re unsure, choose to trust. After all, it’s highly unlikely that the person who cut you off in traffic actually meant to harm you. It is quite likely the clerk was in a bad mood before you got there. Even your boss’s motives probably aren’t all bad toward you. Choosing to trust, giving the benefit of the doubt, empowers the other person to rise into trustworthiness. Choosing mistrust encourages denigration and deceit. Any time we empower another person, THAT’S LOVE. My friend did eventually find her phone, and I found a new perspective on love. I even gave the waiter the benefit of the doubt about my cold coffee. #bethelove #givethebenefitofthedoubt ____________________________________________________________________ Thank you for reading, commenting, and sharing! If you’d like to receive these posts and updates in your inbox, please subscribe. I promise not to share your address or info. If I had to use only one word to describe the prevailing attitude in America today, it would be grouchy.
When I’m in pain, or frustrated, or worried, I tend to be grouchy. I’m thinking a lot of our communal grouchiness is the result of those same feelings, though on a much larger scale. It’s okay to be grouchy sometimes, but it’s looking like an epidemic. We can’t take away the pain, frustration, or worry, but restoring a little bit of faith in humanity will go a long way toward curing the Grouchies. How can we turn those frowns upside down? We can love our neighbors as ourselves (AKA Leviticus 19:18 and Mark 12:31), or as it’s better known, The Golden Rule. You may have heard The Golden Rule to be He Who Has the Gold Makes the Rules, or even Do to Others Before They Do to You. To refresh our collective memories, the Golden Rule is Do to Others as You Would Have Others Do to You. The reverse applies as well--Do Not Do to Others as You Would Have Others Not Do to You. What does that look like? If you want someone to smile at you, smile at them. If you don’t want the door slammed in your face, don’t slam it in theirs. If you want someone to respect your person, property, and point of view, then respect theirs. If you don’t want someone stealing your stuff, don’t steal theirs. Embracing and living this one rule alone could solve a world of problems. I think you get the picture, but if that doesn’t work for you, we’ll up the ante. What’s the quickest and surest way to make Mama Bear grouchy? Mess with her cubs. I mean, hurt me all you want, but don’t you dare lay a finger on my kids. In Golden Rule speak, that would be do to others as you would have others do to YOUR CHILD, and don’t do to others as you would not have others do to YOUR CHILD. In other words, don’t do anything you wouldn’t want someone to do to your child, but by all means, feel free to do all of the things you would. Be kind. Be patient. Encourage. Support. Teach. Let love be your guide. Then there’s this angle: If people loved their neighbors there would be a distinct decline in theft, assault and battery, even murder and human trafficking (both with sellers and buyers). The news media, one major source of our collective grouchiness, would be out of fear-mongering stories. That alone is worth it to me. Hmmmm. I take back what I said earlier about not being able to take away the pain, frustration, or worry. If we lived The Golden Rule, it would be entirely possible for the prevailing attitude in America to become love. #bethelove #thegoldenrulerules |
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