I've Decided to Write

I hate how my perspective is so wrapped up in our culture. Today, I was stressing about centerpieces for the Cub Scout Blue & Gold Banquet next week. Yes, that’s right. I was stressing out. about centerpieces. for children. Ugh. 

Then, while reading a bit from Women Are Scary, I was reminded to pray for children who don’t have all the things that my kids have, the very least of which is friggin’ centerpieces for a free banquet. 

And I was reminded why I wanted to be a part of Trades of Hope in the first place. I want to be a part of the solution for mamas who want the best for their kids and just need a way to provide ongoing meals, shelter, clothing, and education. I will never meet most of the women who make the pieces that I wear, use in my home, and sell at parties. But I see pictures of some of their faces. I see pictures of some of their kids. And I remember why I was called to offer the opportunity to shop their fair trade products. 

My apologies to the non-Nerdfighters who are not familiar with the hilarious concept of adding the phrase “in my pants” to book titles. There are frankly few titles that it does not work on. ;) It occurred to me the other day for this title, and it cracked me up.

Ok, now about the actual book, Women Are Scary, by Melanie Dale: I’m about halfway through it right now. I bought it last week at Barnes and Noble. I don’t buy a lot of books because I check them out from the library. But I couldn’t find this one at the library, so I flipped through it at the store and decided I needed to go ahead and get it. 

I heard about it before Christmas when I saw a post that was shared about How to Have a Slave-Free Christmas by “Melanie Dale - Unexpected” on Facebook. She had created a list of places to shop from that you could be certain were not made with slave labor. Trades of Hope was on her list, which was very cool. So I started following her on Facebook and found out about her book. The cover was enough to hook me. ‘Cause I mean, we do this. We attack one another and leave teeth marks behind. And I don’t think we mean to be malicious most of the time. We’re often unintentionally scary.

It goes back to one of Gretchen Rubin’s Secrets of Adulthood: We’re more like other people than we suppose, and less like other people than we suppose. When we open up to each other, we will find out how much we have in common. And we can use Melanie’s concept of telling each other, “Dude, that’s awesome!” (my paraphrase) about the ways in which we’re different. We don’t have to be so scary.

I have made some amazing mom friends, almost 100% because the other moms reached out and included me. I am shy in groups where I don’t know people well, but I am trying to be more assertive in being the welcoming one. (I have so not arrived in that area.) Melanie uses a baseball analogy to talk about the levels of mom friends. I am so grateful for my fourth basers! ;)

...you must first define your terms.

This quote, that is attributed to Voltaire, is one that my dad cites on a regular basis. Obviously, when you talk to someone, you have to make sure you’re on the same page with the vernacular you use. Otherwise, you could be in deep trouble. Like if an American tells a Brit that they have really cute pants...awkward if the Brit doesn’t know that the American is referring to their trousers instead of their underwear.

I think we have some vernacular that needs tweaking so we can make sure our terms are clearly defined when we discuss things. One that has bothered me for a while is “church.” I mean, I can say, “I’m going to church,” in the same way that my son says, “I’m going to Scouts.” He means that he is going to an elementary school building where all the Scouts happen to be. But when we say that we’re “going to church,” people (in general) don’t think of a group of people meeting in a building. They think of the building. The “church building.” This one is worse because it indicates (to me, anyway) more that the church and building are one and the same: “I’m at church.” 

It’s hard to break those verbal habits, though. They become cultural. I like the old-fashioned phrase, “meeting.” Ok, “meetin’.” Got your Sunday-go-to-meetin’ clothes on? That’s where we’re headed...the meeting of the church. 

“The church is not a building; the church is not a steeple; the church is not a resting place, the church is the people. I am the church, you are the church, we are the church together. All who follow Jesus, all around the world, yes, we’re the church together.” (Excuse my run-ons, but that is how it is punctuated in my head from time immemorial back in Children’s Church days.)

I doubt that I alone can cause a change in how we talk about the church and the buildings where the church meets around the world, but I’d like to at least make sure that I speak about them in such a way that the people around me understand very clearly when I discourse with them what I mean when I use those words.

Well, right now, it’s fact for me. Because I’ve given up fiction for Lent. As an avid reader, particularly of fiction, this means having time available to do work and projects that is ordinarily spent on fiction in various forms. I am not watching tv or movies (with the notable exception of Downton Abbey on Sundays) or reading any fiction (with the exception of reading books to my kids). 

I love fiction. I love diving into books that take me away from reality. They’re my escape. Fantasy worlds like Harry Potter, The Lord of the Rings, Narnia, The Wheel of Time, Percy Jackson...I go there and don’t have to think about reality for a while. 

And yet, it’s got real purpose, fiction does. I carry it with me back to reality. And my reality affects the way I read it. It’s good for analogies with real life and can teach valuable life lessons, too, depending on how it’s done. I will definitely return to fiction, but this respite from it has me analyzing my sources of reading and watching (although sometimes the news could be classified as fiction, for sure), thinking about things. 

I read an Internet article someone posted recently about hidden sins. One the author listed was fear. His contention was that the opposite of fear is love, just like I John indicates, and since the Bible also says that God is love, the opposite of fear is God. What is there to be afraid of?

All this just kind of gelled for me the morning of January 31st as I heard the pastor speak at church. I had a string of AHA moments. The pastor had asked me months ago if I would share some thoughts for communion one Sunday, and I. freaked. out. I met with him to “discuss” it, and we talked about how I was very nervous about talking in front of a congregation of that size, and that was true. What I didn’t talk to him about, though, was how afraid I was of sharing about communion because a) my faith has been tenuous at best for a few years now, and b) I was terrified of letting anyone know what is really going on inside my head and my heart.

I want people to think well of me. I want people to think I have it all together. I want people to only see me filtered and cropped. But here’s the problem: I admire people who are raw and real about their faith and their struggles with it. I’m jealous of how they let it all hang out and don’t seem to care what people think. Truly. But I still don’t want to open myself up. Why? I am so scared that people will look down on me. I’ve always had a reputation as someone who is very sure of her beliefs, and I don’t want anyone to know that I’m faltering and…*gasp!*…don’t have all the answers. I’m a control freak who likes to be right. Letting my guard down is a loss of control over how people see me. And somehow worse than being wrong is the horrible vagueness of not knowing what to believe about certain things.

But I’m tired of living in fear. I’m tired of people not knowing that losing my mother shook me to my core. I was so rigid for so long that my faith couldn’t bend, and so it fractured. I fractured. And so I have been waiting. Waiting for me to get it all figured out and ready to display an unedited version of myself to everyone. A version of me that I like. But I don’t know when or if that is ever going to happen, so I am choosing to embrace who and what and where I am. I have many confessions to make, but this is not where I intend to do that right now.

Instead, when I had these revelations, I wrote this out and have been waiting to share it. I did, however, message the pastor to let him know that I’m ready to share when they need me to. (I was actually afraid I’d change my mind if I didn’t go ahead and do it. Ironic, right?)