why hiding doesn't work

When we were waiting for my mom to arrive at her surprise party, we got the call just ever so slightly sooner than we anticipated, and had to rush to change our clothes and put the finishing touches on our dishes and drinks, etc. I finished making my guacamole, ran upstairs, and quickly started to change in the same room my almost 5 yr-old nephew, Timmy, happened to be in at that moment.

Timmy, who is quite literally the funniest child I have ever met, said, “You’re changing?! I don’t want to see your booty!”

I laughed, and replied, “You won’t see my booty, silly, I’m all covered up!”

Then, with this look on his little face that screamed, “Even though you are a grownup I am maybe a little bit smarter than you,” he said this:

“Doesn’t matter Megs. I can still see how you are."

Out of the mouths of babes. Now, this was horrifying for a plethora of reasons, but the very first thought that entered my mind was this: I’m not as good at hiding as I think I am.

I haven't been able to shake those words from my slightly obsessive brain. It reminded me of my favorite part of Psalm 139:

Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become dark around me,” even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you. For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.

Even though I was changing very modestly, trying to keep Timmy from seeing my booty, as it were, he was right – I couldn’t hide “how I am.” I go to great lengths to keep my booty from being seen, figuratively speaking, to keep from being vulnerable, to keep anyone from seeing how I truly am. I think we all try to keep from being caught in the buff, at the peak of vulnerability. We don't want to be found out. My friend Kristin and I used to talk about new relationships and how we had to be sure and "hide the crazy" for a while. We were laughing at the time... but were we joking? I pretty much go through life trying to hide the crazy. Timmy’s words freaked me out. I laughed, but I was also shockingly anxious in that moment. I have to wonder if God doesn't look at us, hiding, and say to us the very same thing. I think all the time, "Surely, the darkness (or whatever else) will hide me!" But even the darkness is as light to Him. This is why hiding doesn't work.

I just finished reading a novel with a teenage girl in it who was desperately broken. She was making herself throw up several times per day, she was stealing, and had started regularly cutting her arms with razor blades. Towards the end of the book, she gets caught by her father, and I think its a beautiful picture of this whole thing:

The more my father yelled, the more tightly he held on to me. And here's the weirdest thing of all: now that the worst had happened—now that I'd been found out—it wasn't disastrous. It felt, well, inevitable. My father was furious, but me, I couldn't stop smiling. "You see me," I thought, my eyes closing. "You see me."

Even though being seen as we are is a concept that borders on terrifying, I really believe it’s what we all desperately desire: to be seen and loved anyway, maybe even more because of it. When Timmy said, "I can still see how you are," I realize that I was anxious because in hearing those words, I immediately felt shame. It was my biggest fear come true. I was waiting for the rest of the sentence, for the other shoe to drop. What I expect, what I think I deserve, is, "I can see how you are, and it's bad. I can see how you are, and it's wrong. Stupid. Not good enough. Ugly." But in Timmy’s little words there was no judgment or condemnation, he was simply stating fact. Timmy loves me. I saw, in him, a perfect picture of Christ's love for us. I think the sentence does have a second part, but I think it goes like this:

“You're trying to hide, but I can still see how you are. And I love you anyway."

You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. [Romans 5:6-8]

I don’t have to hide, because Jesus sees how I am, which is less than perfect. And he died for me even though I don't deserve it. He loves me anyway.

the MOTHER of all birthdays

Dear World,

As you may or may not have heard, today, my lovely and talented mother, Tracy Lynn Lyday Farrell... is FIFTY!!!!!!!!

thats right. Book 'em Danno, she's five-0!

She dances (and looks, clearly), however, like she's not a day over 25. See?

We celebrated with a SURPRISE party in KC this weekend, which was way fun and took the birthday queen totally by surprise!

5 things you may not have known about my mother:

1. She takes tap dance with her friends and is, "the best in her class" (according to her)

2. She loves rap music and also hip hop and also has an affinity for Disco

3. She thinks I am hilarious, which I clearly love about her. Except when she asks me, quite literally, to perform for crowds of people.

4. I think she knows everything about everything. I feel like I could call with any random question and she would know exactly how to do it/who to call/what the answer is. She's kind of brilliant.

5. Her faith is amazing - she loves Jesus with her whole self... I have been so blessed to have such a great model for what authentic faith looks like.

So here's to you, Mommy Dearest, the queen of hip hop and censored rap music, the cutest Mom I know, on this, the first day of your 50th year! I love you so much!

celebrations, belated and otherwise

In my brief hiatus from all things blog, I have missed a LOT of really fun things to celebrate. So in order to properly acknowledge the celebrations of you, my faithful readers, here are some things we have celebrated in recent months, in no particular order (aside from the order that Blogger decided to upload them):

my sweet nephew Joel turned 12 in June!! getting dangerously close to the teens... here we are at the lake:

Emily, Joel's sister (which would make her my niece) turned FIFTEEN on July 14. Which is ridiculous. I feel like she should still be 5!! This was taken when we were at camp in Colorado, on the top of Mt. Chrysolite! Beautiful view, beautiful girl!

my sister, Amie's birthday was June 29! We spent it at the lake which was WAY fun... cake for breakfast, our whole family together, dance parties on the boat... it was a much needed mini-vacation. Here, Amie is singing her heart out on the boat. And Shelbs is plugging her ears.

We celebrated Ben's 21st in June.... the 28th, to be exact. Clearly, we had fun:
Kelly "Misdemeanor" Marhaver turned 24 on July 18! Not the 17th, which is when I called her, thinking it was the 18th. Fail. This picture is an oldie but a goodie. Look how young and cute we were! This was taken right before we went on a sweet double date to the Outback Steakhouse. Classy.
Lori Ingersoll (2006 Homecoming Queen of Trinity University: see picture) had a birthday on April 30... AND, ladies and gentlemen, as of a couple weeks ago is now betrothed to be MRS. Bobby Zabor!!! YAY weddings!!!!
My dear friend and lovely former youth grouper from FPC San Antonio, Wilson, has been kicking cancer's @$$ for the past year or so... and he just finished his last treatment!! Happy Remission, Wils!!!!!
Heeeeey Brother: Thomas turned the big 2-1 in May... much to my dismay! Here he is in his younger retainer days. FYI: this picture, when I stumbled upon it, made me laugh out loud.
Audrie's birthday was June 12. This was hard for all of us, but it is a wonderful reminder of the life of the sister, daughter, and mommy we loved and continue to love dearly. I found this picture in an old shoebox of pictures in my closet at home... I hadn't seen it in years. I always feel relief and comfort when I stumble on or remember something like this, a little reminder that even though Audrie isn't here, she will always be alive in our hearts and in our memories.

So there you have it. If I were to make a list of things I love, among them would most definitely be birthdays, engagements, and remission. More to come in the near future, never you fear...

a note on acclimating

ee cummings', "(finding and losing and laughing and crying)" has never felt more appropriate.

As some of you may already know, I like words a lot... so much so that I have a list of favorite words which I like to bust into conversation every now and then and knock the veritable socks off of all the people listening to me drop big words like they're hot. Definitely on that list, up high in fact, is the word "discombobulated," and I couldn't feel more so at this current moment.

I am back in Denver, trying to acclimate (another favorite) to regular life again. It is an oddly disconcerting (another) thing to be gone from a place for months at a time - even though lots of things are the same, lots of things are different, too. Like, for example, there are new people who hang around with my old people, there are things like my roomie Susan moving out today and my roomie Becca and friend Colin getting engaged, there are things like having to find a new place to live looming in the not-distant-enough future. The surfacey part of me is adjusting just fine, learning the new things, meeting the new people, saying goodbye to other people and things... and then there is a perhaps bigger part of me that wants to scream (or stay in bed all day, as the case may be) in protest of how different life is than it was in May. How different I am, too.

Just today I was thinking about if I might want to make it back to Wichita before school started and everything, just for a weekend, and I caught myself thinking about how I could do that, because it would be a good chance to see my fam, see Amie and the kids, see Emily and Joel, visit Audrie. It is things like this that make it impossibly hard not to want to rebel against life going on. I want to visit Audrie. And I can't. Acclimating sucks.

So while I am busy trying desperately to resist being Debbie Downer constantly and am trying to resist answering "TERRIBLE" every time someone asks simply how I am, I read about this thing called the gift of the desert road. I am 100% plagiarizing from Stuff Christians Like, which I unabashedly and shamelessly promote at any chance and/or opportunity.

While I protest and rage against God for all of the things in my life that, in my opinion, suck at this current moment, when I wonder why my week at Frontier was so very trying and hard, when I wonder WHY I am not this, that, and the other, when I am confused as to why I am not already a mature, problem-free Christian and also awesome counselor, friend, family member, and general human being, when I wonder why I am not engaged or married or on my way there, at least, essentially when I am just downright unsatisfied with everything, I read this question: "Why do you keep refusing the gift of the desert road?" (a big thank you, Jon Acuff, for asking).

Here's what he writes:

"That's kind of a weird question, but it comes out of some verses I've written about before. In Exodus 13: 17-18, as the Israelites are leaving Egypt, the Bible says:

When Pharaoh let the people go, God did not lead them on the road through the Philistine country, though that was shorter. For God said, "If they face war, they might change their minds and return to Egypt." So God led the people around by the desert road toward the Red Sea. The Israelites went up out of Egypt armed for battle.

I love the simplicity of that. God knew that if the Israelites took the short way, if they took what probably seemed like the logical route, they'd face a war they weren't ready for and would probably willingly return to slavery. So out of love, out of a deep, big love for His people, he took them on the desert road."

Hmm. The thing is, I have no idea what the plan is. Based on what I believe about God, I am not the planner. I don't get to choose the timing, I don't get to pick the circumstances, I don't get to always have my way. But also, based on what I believe about God, I believe there are plans. That God's timing is perfect and I don't have to question that. Which is not to say I don't, because I do, but the point is, maybe I am not ready for war just yet. Maybe (probably) I have more to learn before I go through Philistine country because if I don't learn those things, I might duck and run before I get through. Who knows.

"What if God loves you too much to send you to war? What if He loves you too much to throw you into situations you're not ready for? What if that desert road is a gift?"

What if it is, after all, a gift? What if the long way around is the best way, for me? This is life, now. Getting to know the new people, loving the old people, finding a new house, finding (fingers crossed) a JOB for December, waiting for the day when I get to be the one on the receiving end of a perfect proposal, learning to live without my sister, and figuring out how to adequately honor her life with my own. I can stay in bed as long as I want, or I can dive headfirst into what God seems to be trying to teach me. I guess that's my choice.

So even though the desert road seems a little long and a lot sucky, I think I'll try to accept it. Better than changing my name to Debbie (last name Downer) and adding "WAH-WAH" to the end of every sentence, which I'm pretty sure is the only logical alternative.

I'd say life is difficult to very difficult. On a scale of difficulty.

I still sit here and have no idea what to write. Even though I blogged once about Audrie, got over the hump, it's still hard. I don't know if I thought it would get easier, but it kind of hasn't. Still, every day it's the first thing I remember. Still, I can't do much of anything without remembering that Audrie is gone. Will that ever go away?

I went this weekend to Fort Worth to see friends and to attend Zach Margolis and Mary Elizabeth Whitson's wedding! Having gone to high school AND college with one Mr. Zachariah, and college with M.E., I was thrilled to be there for the wedding - it was a really beautiful service, and I got to see so many fun people! It was a surprisingly rejuvenating couple of days. There is nothing like seeing people who really love you and who you really love to just really feel refreshed. It's kind of unbelievable and also very wonderful.

Here are some pictures from said lovely encounters:

The lovely and wonderful Jacky Bui...

Bianca Quezada, who I also love.

My sweet friends: Jenna Beth, Ali Tabe, Karoo! [fyi: Texas is flipping HOT. sweaty hot. Colorado = upgrade.]

So that's that. We also had a fabulous time doing the Victory in the Valley walk for Aud on June 6. It was a fun way to honor Audrie, and we raised a bunch of dollas - won third place, actually... not too brag, but the Aud Squad is pretty kick@$$. Here are some pictures! Aren't those t-shirts fantastic?

That's all I've got. Thankful for a good weekend. Excited to see those two hoodlums (above) again tomorrow. Looking forward to Young Life camp in July and Kelly "Misdemeanor" Marhaver's visit in 2 weeks!

Also... can't help myself... special shout out to the Tingalings - Teen is preggo! I love that news. Congrats Teen and Frank!! [Soon, I hope, I will be shouting out to your sister when baby Eli comes!!!]

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

Grief is awful. There are lots of emotions and there is crying and there is joy for the life, for Heaven, and there is remembering. Those things all feel natural to the process... what doesn't, is then going on with life, living. One of the hardest things, I think, is figuring out how to do all of the things you usually do in the wake of loss. How do I write on my stupid blog when Audrie is gone? It seems like a nonsensical question, but I find myself faced with it anyway. Everything still happens, that doesn't change, but two Tuesdays ago Audrie died [it took me a solid minute to even write the words] and everything changed. Lots of things in my life will look exactly the same as they did before, but absolutely nothing is the same. Nothing changed and everything changed. Isn't that just stupid? 

There are certain things I know to be true and it feels right to start with these. God is good. God loves me, my family, God loves Audrie more than we who love her can even fathom. I know our God is the God of all comfort; that scripture says that God is close to the brokenhearted, to the crushed in spirit. I know that God was close to Audrie throughout her courageous battle, whether at different times she knew it or didn't, although I like to think she did. I know, with great and powerful certainty, that Audrie's  joy is complete - that her body has been restored, that she feels no more pain, no more worry or fear. Though it pains me, pains all of us that we no longer hear her laugh, see her face, Audrie is in a place far better than the best thing I can imagine. Jesus has overcome the grave and that, that is good news.

In the past few years one of my favorite things about my life has become being little sister to my two big sisters. Having grown up in the same house with my little brothers, big sister was something I organically came into. Being a little sister was more of a process... and that's a little hard to put words to but in the end it is one of my favorite and most prized titles. As I have grown up, I have gotten closer to both Audrie and Amie, looking to them as a little sister, wanting in a very kind of childish way to pretty much follow them around with my nose in their butts wondering what they will do next that is cool and big sistery. (I think I have pretty much kept my cool in all of this so Amie, don't be shocked by this admission of admiration, ok? Just flip your hair and we'll move right along.) 

So, now. Now. After. I'm mad. I'm mad and sad and I want to cross my arms and pout like Shelbie (my niece) does when she's mad at Hazel (our dog) for going outside without her because I want more time, more time to learn about Audrie and to hang out with her and to learn how to be sassy and clever and witty and loyal and protective like her. I love listening to stories about her, I love remembering the times I spent with her myself, but I want more time to be her little sister, and I want more time to be her friend. I think we all do, want more time with her, that is, I do not mean to say that I am unique in this desire... but today it's what I am feeling most. I am mad, and it is not fair. 

I asked one of my friends how life was just supposed to go on, now. She, being very wise in my opinion, said that yes, as hard as it was, life did go on. But it didn't mean that things hadn't changed. And, she said, sadly the world might be just a little less beautiful. 

Maybe so. I think that things will get easier, that time may heal some of our family's pain. I know that it will not always sting as badly as it does right this minute. But we will never forget, and heal though we may, that loss will never be fine. There is not a magical number of sympathy cards or bouquets of flowers or hours we spend crying or even hugs from our friends that will make it ok, as good as those things can be. And maybe that's ok. Maybe that's just what it is, in the end. I don't know yet.

Audrie was strong, beautiful, funny, caring, sassy, "fiercely protective," loyal, selfless, fun, and fabulous. She had fantastic taste in shoes, she loved to read mystery novels, she loved the University of Nebraska. Apparently there is a cookie recipe she has been perfecting for years, one I am excited to try baking myself soon. She loved her kids, loved being Mommy to Emily and Joel. I had promised her that with my profession I would try and figure out teenage girls for her, and I will keep that promise. She was cool. She had great hair, great jewelry, great taste. She displayed in her home, prominently, all of the things I have crafted for her over the years, no matter how silly. She always shortened my name, even when she addressed envelopes to me, which always made me smile. Our sister Audrie was a badass. There's not really any other to put it.

I will remember car rides, dinners, laughing, the first "happy birthday little sister" card she sent me, making fun, seeing stupid movies (XXX starring Vin Diesel comes to mind), the new years eve party she invited me to (I wanted to stay home, couldn't resist her invitation, I loved that she wanted me there), party bus, birthday cakes, talking about books, saying I love you, playing with her kids, sitting at chemo, laughing, a sleepover on my birthday, crowding around her hospital bed, laughing, milkshakes, sitting on her bed - all of us at once - just days before she left us, laughing, spending so much time saying nothing important, saying goodbye, saying everything important.

I miss her, we all do. I even miss worrying about her, praying for her treatments, I miss emailing my prayer list with the latest update. I miss her laugh and her presence, texting her, thinking of something clever to write on her Facebook wall so she would laugh, visiting her. I'm in Wichita and (by definition) bored and Audrie was always the first to remind me that she was here, just a few minutes away, that she'd love to do something anytime, whenever, whatever. 

God is faithful. As Habakkuk so eloquently said, "[even when everything is really really sucky]; yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior." I'm trying. Praying and leaning and trusting and trying.

I love you love you love you Aud. We will forever carry you in our hearts.  

Your admiring and slightly dorky little sister,

Meg

here is the deepest secret nobody knows  
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud  
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows  
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)  
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart  
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

- ee cummings

I will praise the Lord at all times - I will constantly speak his praises.

I will boast only in the Lord; let all who are helpless take heart.

Come, let us tell of the Lord's greatness; let us exalt his name together.

I prayed to the Lord, and he answered me - he freed me from all my fears.

Those who look to him for help will be radiant with joy; no shadow of shame will darken their faces. 

In my desperation I prayed, and the Lord listened; he saved me from all my troubles.

The Lord hears his people when they call to him for help. He rescues them from all their troubles. 

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; he rescues those whose spirits are crushed.

[from] Psalm 34

seminary prom? yes please!

Denver Seminary decided last year that there apparently needed to be some kind of event slash dance slash dinner for the students and staff. This event was called Selah Gala, and last year we shamelessly (and I do mean shamelessly) mocked the Selah Gala up and down. We never even entertained the thought of going... just made fun of all the people who went. [sorry for my closed-mindedness, friends who may or may not have boogied the night away at the Gala last year].
We (my very cool and popular friends and I) were then pretty shocked when last night happened - and we were pretty much all in attendance at said Selah Gala. I know, I know... hypocrites, the lot of us. It all started when one of our friends went on Student Council (we make fun of that too... I will never not think it's funny that a grad school/seminary has a Stuco)... and was selling us tickets left and right! Then all the new kids didn't realize it wasn't cool - and they all bought tickets - and then there were all of these moderately fun people going - and lo and behold, there we were at Seminary Prom... which is, essentially, what Selah Gala means. I think it's Greek. Or Hebrew, I can't remember...

Here is a recap of the night (which was actually pretty fun)...

We do love an excuse to dress up, so it wasn't all bad. Selah Gala - gotta pull out the big guns in terms of ensembles, hairdo's, and makeup! [While getting ready (yes, we got ready together, much like high school)... Me: "Does my eye makeup look trampy?" Chelsea: "Megan... it's Selah Gala. Put more on."]To quote Allison Cunningham: "Have you ever noticed that we have really attractive friends?"First thing we noticed when we sat down - this nifty little helper... you know, in case our conversation lulled. We took great pleasure in re-wording the questions a little bit. For example, #3 turned into: "Who (professor, mentor, or student) would you make out with at seminary?" Inappropriate? Probably. But that's how we roll. Then there was the dancing... my goodness was there dancing! Here are Chelsea and I busting moves:Luckily my prom date was a really excellent dancer as well...And then we were joined on the dance floor by one of our professors, which was pretty epic... her husband is behind in the shiny blue shirt, if you're wondering. Here is a picture of my and my hot date, Kenneth - this was the last picture, taken in the parking garage of downtown Denver before we hit the bars for MORE DANCING!!! I would like to note that my feet may be permanently crippled from last night's 9 hours straight of wearing/walking and dancing in painfully high heels... 2 words... worth it.So while I have to admit that half the fun was choosing worst dressed and laughing at reflective conversation, we had a good time. This weekend was really REALLY fun... which I feel is a happy alternative to the recent past. It's nice to just have some fun every once in a while... I have really good and fun and attractive friends and I am feeling pretty lucky about that right now.

I hope your weekend was as good as mine - whatever that means for you!

blogging in coffee shops is perhaps the ultimate in cool

I'm writing a paper. (yes, another one)... this one is on my personal position on integration (of theology and counseling) which I love because I don't actually have to do any research, I can just write what I like and make it sound pretty without having to cite any miserable research articles. As an aside, when I was working yesterday on my other paper I asked the people I was sitting with what was another word for "dynamics" because I had used it 7 times in one paragraph. This horrible guy (who, as an aside to my aside, sat and harrassed my friend and I for far longer than his welcome warranted) was all, "it's a technical paper. don't try to make it sound pretty, just write what you mean." Loser. What's the fun in writing a paper if I can't make it sound pretty? and if I don't want to use the word "dynamics" 8 times, then I won't, thank you very much. oh and by the way, unwelcome chatty guy, could you please go away? thankssomuch.
BAck to my original purpose and point, I just quoted Madeline L'Engle from Walking on Water and I can't get over how much I love this:

"If she is truly and deeply a Christian, what she [does] is going to be Christian, whether she mentions Jesus or not. And if she is not, in the most profound sense, Christian, then what she writes is not going to be Christian, no matter how many times she invokes the name of the Lord."

I just love that!
That, ladies and gentlemen, is how I intend to be a Christian counselor who does not only counsel Christians. ha!

if I am truly crazy, don't you know I like my life that way?

this is how we feel about spending sunday writing papers.

so, we drank a lot of coffee.

and now, we're almost done! hooray!

oh and here is my fave picture of my fake b-day party...these boys bought me the card I am holding, which on the front says "For the Love of my Life" and had the most atrociously awesome essay about our love inside [the words "merry in your christmas, happy in your birthday, light in your darkness" were used, if that is any indicator]... I was laughing so hard I cried a little. I do have pretty good (and funny) friends. Which is lucky.

dear snow, I hate you. really. I do.

So last night, we got like a million inches of snow and Skate City closed just when my birthday party was about to begin. STUPID. I gave literal meaning to "it's my party and I'll cry if I want to" (or if it gets canceled...) major bummer. AND... it is STILL SNOWING. like, a lot. Here the view from where I sit:We still ended up having fun, of course, but it was hugely disappointing. And now I have nothing funny to blog about. So as my blog-crush Stuff Christians Like writer said recently, I'll be continuing "to get all Lifetime Movie with my writing." Sorry.

I've given a lot of thought in the past few days to judgment. For some reason, it keeps coming up. At Challenge Day which I blogged about the other day, we talked a lot with the kids about not judging people and drew attention to all of the various circumstances that make a person who they are... point being, we have no idea - at first glance - as to who a person really is.
For SOME unknown reason, we got on this tangent at my Truth Project group this week too. My friend talked bout a guy he saw on Sem Campus with pink hair. Making all the obvious judgments upon seeing any person with pink hair, the guy ended up coming to his class and talking about how he had done it as kind of an experiment to see who would get to know who the guy really was.
My friend Chris, a while back, grew a really awesome mullet. It was truly epic. He had it for a while, and as a very friendly, approachable guy usually, he commented several times on how differently people treated him when he had that mullet! Isn't that silly? Needless to say, I keep thinking about this topic... and don't worry, I'm gonna bring it all home here in a sec...

So I think this is sad. I do it too, like, every 20 seconds. I'm going to be a counselor - and if I ever want to work with at-risk youth or anyone not in a private Christian school (not that there's anything WRONG with that...) I'm going to have to really get over this. I wonder about all the people I have missed out on in my life because I didn't bother to understand them, get to know them, introduce myself. Whether it was because of what they looked like, what style their hair was, or if they were rude - whatever it was, it's sad to think about the people we miss out on - and more importantly, the people who get missed out on, because we [I] don't take the time to listen, notice, ask.

Today I saw this video - and I want you to really watch it (if you haven't already) because I think it illustrates this point BRILLIANTLY. This woman is a walking sermon illustration. I love to see the crowd's immediate change of heart, the look on the judges faces, as she completely... well... just watch. It's beautiful. I cried.

Britain's Got Talent

It makes me sad to think of all the other talents who don't ever get a chance to shine. I mean, I got to sing a solo in 8th grade at the spring concert. I got a chance. I wanted to sing, and I tried it. I didn't knock any socks off with "That's What Friends are For"... let's just say that. But the kids I met at Grant MS don't always get listened to, or get a chance, because they're punks and they have fashion mullets. Kids (and grown ups) all the time don't get a chance. Susan Boyle didn't for 47 years. But when she does, finally, get her chance... isn't it beautiful?

as an aside...

... maybe I should go easy on the super spiritual serious blogging lately. my goodness.
hopefully something funny happens soon so I can blog about it. I mean, I've got a reputation to protect.
ooh... my rollerskating birthday party is coming up Friday. that should prove entertaining.

fun is on the horizon! never you fear.

a more positive look at skinny jeans and swoopy hair.

Today, I got to see a bully apologize to those he had bullied and promise to stop.

I saw a 13-year-old girl apologize to all the girls she has talked about behind their backs, as well as her teachers and even her principal.

I saw a scrawny, sweet little kid stand up for himself, and I saw the kids who picked on him respond with love and respect.

I watched kids (and adults) as they grieved the things they had suffered in their lives and came alongside one another when they realized other kids (and adults) had gone through the same stuff.

I watched as kids sobbed into each other's skinny jeans and push each other's swoopy hair out of their eyes for a tiny moment as they acknowledged the oppression they had experienced as a result of who they are, their family situations, the color of their skin, the size of their bodies, or how much money they have.

Today, I watched a 7th grade boy stand up in front of his entire 7th grade class and teachers and apologize to any women in the room who had been mistreated by men. He said that he was sorry, and that in the future, we should remember the truth about how we deserved to be treated.

I'm not even kidding.

Confusion at this point is to be expected. Today I volunteered for this thing called Challenge Day at Grant Middle School. I literally had no idea what I was getting into - at all. But it was so stinkin cool I can hardly stand it!

The catch phrase for the program is this, and I think it says a lot: "Imagine a school where every child feels safe, loved, and celebrated... where bullying, violence, and other forms of oppression are a thing of the past... This is the work of Challenge Day." So basically these two very high-energy individuals come and run this day long program at schools all around the country. We played lots of games, affirmed each other, identified oppression and talked about really hard stuff, and then the kids got a chance to talk about what they were going to do to make a difference in their school. Who knows if the things mentioned above will stick - clearly, there will still be problems. But even baby steps are steps, after all. I had a kid in my small group who was resistant to share anything because she didn't like talking about her feelings with people she didn't know very well. After we did the oppression exercise (which was wildly powerful and had me in tears several times), we came back together and her "lips are sealed" attitude was practically gone! The gym, our group, her peers, became a safe place because they got to see that every person there had crap in their lives that was really horrible and sucky. I can't help but think that this whole day would have just made Jesus so happy.

This goes hand in hand with what I blogged (I love blog as a verb, I feel very hip using it) about back when I was all jazzed about my small group. The leaders of the program kept talking about the ways we're told it's not ok to be how we are and feel what we are feeling - and I STILL think this is problem numero uno in the church! I won't go off on this again... but lets just get real, you know? Just do it. You know you want to.

There are two things I want to do with my life/profession/ministry/whatever the heck I do: I want to refute lies (more on this at a later time, I assure you), and I want to make kids [and people] feel safe, loved, and celebrated. Lofty goals, but if I do nothing else ever I think that will be puh-lenty. So in terms of counseling, I am definitely taking a TON from the day...

Mostly, I'm going to try really hard to resist giving advice and just give kids space to feel what they're feeling for a while. I hate sadness, and I tend to try and be funny and make people laugh so they aren't sad anymore. But sometimes, we just need to be sad [mad, angry, frustrated, scared, you name it] for a while. Instead of trying to fix it or tell them the reasons they'll be ok, I'm gonna let them sit in it. I'm gonna sit with them. Life isn't about learning how not to suffer, as I think many of us can attest to... but about learning how to suffer well. Learning how to sit in it, and sometimes, [like, I don't know, when we feel safe, loved, and celebrated] letting someone sit with us.

"Christ is Risen! Celebrate accordingly."

Shortly after Lent began, a friend sent me this verse for encouragement:

"Remember not the former things, do not consider the things of old. Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not see it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert."

I have to wonder about the Passion. Can you imagine? Jesus was supposed to save everybody - as in, he was pretty much expected to be this mighty warrior who came to the rescue. Jesus laid down His life instead of taking those of their enemies. "What is powerful has not come to fight…" as Derek Webb croons. It was not exactly what they had in mind. Might not God have said to the disciples, "I am doing a new thing! Do you not see it? HELLO!!" They didn't. I still don't. Out of the horrific death of Christ came this beautiful redemption, the salvation of the world. Even out of such a dark wilderness, the Lord made a way. My suffering is incomparable to Christ's suffering. But the truth remains: doesn't matter what happened way back when or even yesterday. God was (is) doing a new thing, a more beautiful thing than we could (can) imagine. Friday and Saturday's dim sadness are nullified by Sunday. This particular song I have been listening to says this, "It just might be the prettiest thing that you've ever seen, well it's a new day." This rings especially true as we welcome Easter Sunday.

Psalm 139: there is no where I can hide where God will not find me. "Even the darkness is not dark to [God]; the night is bright as day, for darkness is as light to [God]." Even as I perceive[d] darkness, where I hide and feel secluded from my Father... well, needless to say, I am wrong. Every now and then, my feelings dictate a shaky faith. I have to grasp that faith is not a feeling, rather, faith overcomes my feelings. When my feelings are the most hurt, this is when I must recall the truth: that God doesn't change. Even in the times when I perceive the most darkness, times like now when I cannot wrap my tiny mind around why things happen, I know I follow a God who sees right through it. And God will make a way, after all.

Often holidays fall through secular cracks... how chocolate rabbits are to remind us of the Resurrection, I'll never quite know. [sidenote: I am so not knocking chocolate rabbits. they're delicious. just driving my point home.] I am equally to blame. Often my birthday (which, we know this, I LOVE) falls right around Easter, and I get all caught up in the glory of my birth... and the death and resurrection of the Son of God plays second fiddle to that event. WHAT IS THAT? What the heck is wrong with me!? But such a misstep is a mere microcosm of the life I live, where I so often am distracted by something shiny and turn away from the completely beautiful paramount truth of the Cross. Truth so incredible and earth shattering (curtain splitting, even!) should be constantly on the tip of my tongue. The title of this post was actually a text message from a friend this morning - it made me smile and remember that that is EXACTLY true. I am convinced that if I really could fathom the miracle of the Cross, I would never talk about anything else to anyone ever. [exaggerating, maybe. or am I? again, with the driving of points...]

Regardless of what your mess is or what the wilderness looks like, we all want out of it. We all need a God who does not even comprehend darkness - where we are weak, God is made strong. We all need to be brought down a few notches every now and then and let Christ play first fiddle. Beyond the season of Lent, we are called to give to God the things we least want to give. We are to trust in Sunday, and not let Friday and Saturday get us down, because in today we are reminded that, as I said yesterday, that is not the end of the story! We keep reading. God overcomes. God does a new thing. God makes a way out of the wilderness. Sometimes the Bible seems like it's out of date and doesn't apply to our lives. But these things have not changed. Even the darkness is as light to our God. Even in the horrors of Good Friday and a Holy Saturday, God was doing this big, huge, gargantuan thing.

As Pastor Marsh quoted in church this morning, "It's Friday. But Sunday's a comin'!"

Happy happy Easter!! I am thankful to be here with all my family today enjoying each other. Thankful that SUNDAY IS HERE!!!!

"I want the things you just can't give me" - on Lent

Giving it up.
Sacrifice.
Suffering.

These concepts do not thrill me.

Imagine my dismay every year when Lent comes around. Lent, I feel, is an interesting thing. Some people do it, some people don't. Some people think it's a Catholic thing - but in the churches I have grown up in (and continue to grow up in), we have always accepted giving something up for Lent as a fairly standard practice. I've done it. I've been overly legalistic about it. I've screwed it up. I've pretty much been all across the board when it comes to Lent. When I was younger I thought I had to give up things like chocolate, sugar - very obvious things. Now, there's not anything wrong with that, all I mean is that it wasn't so much a prayerful decision about what to sacrifice, but more of a "what will the other girls be giving up?" kind of decision. Welcome to my teen years. I was a real gem.

It is not a secret to many of you that this has not been the most fun year. I struggled with experiencing what appeared to be a time of silence from God - I could not for the life of me figure out what the heck God was trying to do to me. I just recently bought a greeting card that says, "Anything described as a 'learning experience' is probably something that just sucked a whole bunch." We'll call this bit of time one such learning experience. So when I showed up at Ash Wednesday church, I was ready for something, anything, to help me understand what God was doing. I read this in the "Guide to Lent" that I was given on Ash Wed:

"The word [Lent] itself connects us to a season of life. This is a messy season, a season where things get muddy and windblown, where we discover forgotten litter and broken limbs under the snow. Lent is a path we may choose to deal with this mess. Rather than rush to clean it up or ignore it until the neighbors complain, we roll up our sleeves and sort through the debris. Ultimately, it is a journey designed to reveal more of who Jesus is and who we are in response. The ancient church understood that ashes are a prerequisite for Easter, brokenness for healing, death for resurrection. Our ancestors have given us Lent to help us find our way."

Um, wow. Not often in life do I feel like God speaks so clearly to me... but this was just what I needed to hear. I cried like a baby. The girl next to me asked awkwardly, "Um... are you... ok?" I was, finally. Maybe other people felt messy, muddy and windblown, too. Maybe the placement of this difficult time was to make Lent all the more enticing... to remind me that I wasn't going to pull myself up by my bootstraps, but that I needed help sorting through the debris. ‘Brokenness for healing.’ Thank God.

During Lent, we give stuff up for 40 or so days. We call it sacrifice. But God wants us [me] to look deeper. What keeps me from the Lord? What are my deepest sins? What am I holding onto the most tightly? I have this sinking feeling that God wants that stuff. God wants that so that I have nothing keeping me from understanding. I have to clean up the mud and the mess so my vision is not blurred by those things - so that when Easter comes, I get to celebrate and rejoice without the broken mess holding me back. So that when God makes my way out of the wilderness, I can see the path.

The rich young man (see: Luke 18:18-23) asked Jesus what he had to do to go to heaven. He was good. He followed the rules [i.e.: gave something up for Lent every year]. He probably gave up coffee or something. But were delicious, hot, caffeinated beverages what owned his heart and kept him from the Lord? Nope. "Give up all ya dolla dolla billz!" is what Jesus told him. (Yes. Sometimes in my head, Jesus sounds like a rapper.) Money was what the rich man needed to give up (and not just for 40 days, either), because it was the thing he couldn't bear to part with. Even if it meant heaven, eternal life with God, it was too scary to give up what was comfortable. So the man - a good man, mind you - went away, sad. Resigned. It was too much to give.

I wonder what Jesus would say to me if the story was called "the not-so-rich young newly 24 year old named Megan." If I said, "Hey, so Jesus, I do lots of pretty Christian stuff... I mean, I'm in Seminary. I go to church every Sunday... I try not to break the big rules, and I even gave up watching TV online for Lent. So I'm going to heaven, right?" What would Jesus say to me? What is my "money"? "Sure, Megan, you're on the right track. Just one more thing. Give me [insert monumental request here]. Then you're in." I hope that I wouldn't walk away sad. But that's what I need to give up. All the time. Every single stinking day... not just during Lent. Dang it.

So these are my ever-so-deep thoughts on Lent. I feel pretty lucky to be in a school where I do get to learn more about stuff like this, and additionally a part of a church that explains to those of us who don't know what is the significance of such important holidays, because they are so much more than holidays. I have more thoughts, in fact, on Easter - which I may post later... we'll see. But for now, as Lent draws to a close, how cool is it that a tradition so old can be so easily applicable to our current circumstance?

As we come closer to Easter, and circumstances of life do not get any easier, I am thinking about what are the things I need to part with even after Lent is over. I hope that my mess is cleared just enough that I can celebrate and find joy in the resurrection, in the gift of salvation. On holy Saturday, which is a day when hope is thought to be dead, we grieve the death of Christ. But we hold out for Sunday - with hope and anticipation - because, praise God, death isn't the end of the story. In Christ, it never is.