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    theresa


    Theresa Lode or, simply “T”, had her world turned upside down and inside out when her son was diagnosed with ADHD and a few other goodies. Her choice- follow the doctor's orders....or trust her heart and delve into the world of Free Range Education. She chose the latter...

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“I knew I’d be safe with you.”

I had a friend call me today with news of a recent decision that left some tongues wagging.  “People don’t understand,” she said.  “No, they don’t,” I said.  “But I knew I’d be safe with you,” she replied.  I told her to tell the busybodies that what she does with her life is none of their damn business.  She laughed and confessed that  often times she was too nice for her own good.

I’m not writing this to declare what a wonderful confidant I am…I haven’t always been a safe person.  If she had told me her decision 20 years ago, I very likely would have been one of the wagging tongues.  (And no, this gal wasn’t planning something immoral or illegal.)

The more I am freed from the shackles of religions, the less compelled I am to share my opinion (read: judgment) with others on how they are living their life or the decisions they’ve made.  I still have plenty of opinions.  But when I start opening my big trap and offering them my opinions, I change the nature of our relationship from that of friends  to an interaction between a judge and the judged.

It doesn’t work relationally.  It just doesn’t.

The more I step back from playing judge and jury with people, the more I am free to accept people where they’re at and I hope….just love them.

The times when folks DO ask for my opinion, I will offer it.  But with the preface that it is my opinion.

On the flip side, my good friend Joanne once threatened to “come over and bitch slap” me if I didn’t get my attitude out of a free fall.   (I didn’t understand exactly what a “bitch slap” was but I complied out of sheer terror.)

She’s earned the right to speak to me like that because we are both invested in our friendship.  Not because we’re not co- participants of the latest Beth Moore Bible study and we’re helping each other toe the line but because we love each other.  It’s got to come back to love.

And THAT’S the stuff that helps people change.

Do you use the “D” word in your home?

This word especially offensive to Christians.  That’s why I was so shocked to hear it coming out of the mouth of a devoted Christ follower. Sure, I’ve used the word before.  And-old habits sometimes die hard-it still slips out once in awhile.

Of course, one could argue it isn’t the word per se but rather the anger that’s usually behind such a strong expletive.  And a child who understands the power of this word wields great control over the parent.

DISRESPECT

There is nothing like disrespect, either real or perceived, that incites the concern (or wrath, if we’re really being candid,) like a snotty kid not paying mom and dad due homage.

Here are a few shrilly quotes from Yours Truly, “After all I’ve done for you, and you treat me like this!”  Or “Get that tone out of your voice!”

Or how about this goody that I gleaned from a conversation overheard recently at the coffee shop, “Our kids can say anything to us as long as they’re respectful.”  This was advice offered to a mom who was clearly at wit’s end with an angry child.

I wanted to climb over my dark roast and splash something on this sincere, but misguided counselor.  I wanted to tell the hurting mom…It’s okay.  Like those stupid bobble-headed dogs, I’ve nodded yes to the “as long as their respectful…” mantra as though it is the Holy Grail of the parenting experience.

I had pictured that one day, like Rocky Balboa running up the steps, arms held high in victory, my goal of being a parent was to have (cue to the Rocky Theme song,) Respectful Children.

Wooo-hoooo! I've conquered! My kids are RESPECTFUL!

Boy have I changed.

Don’t get me wrong.  I’m not advocating a Lord of the Flies environment.  Nor am I talking about Manners 101 which needs to be taught.  (Call me old fashioned but I miss the days of men removing their hats indoors.  But I digress.)

Respect is about attitude. And I am convinced that genuine respect is not a practiced outward behavior but rather, the fruit of a healthy relationship.

Several years ago I first began re-thinking this when a friend of mine shared something that rocked my world.  She found that whenever she was dealing with a negative behavior in her kids that quite often, God would highlight HER shortcomings in that very same area.  Eg. Her kid has the bad habit of interrupting people and she realized she too had that tendency.

Ugh.  That really punches a hole in the dictatorial “Because I’m the parent” model for parenting.

But back to respect.  Here’s a typical scenario: Your kid misbehaves.  You call them on it.  And then they say, “Gee, Mom.  Thanks for pointing that out.  I see where you’re coming from and I’m going to work on that.”

Uh-huh.  If you believe that, you should stop in here when it’s time to turn the Xbox off and we can share a hearty laugh.

Or even worse, there’s some serious issues brewing like what that mom in the coffee shop was dealing with.

I feel your pain, Rodney.

Truth is I get offended when I’m treated disrespectfully.  And THEN the fun begins.

Here are some questions I consider when there’s disrespect in our home.  First: What is the real issue?

Have I done something to provoke my kids to anger?  Have I engaged in a power struggle with them instead of calmly allowing the circumstances of their poor choices to play out?

Or how about this: Am I being respectful to them and modeling the behavior I desire….even when I’m good and pissed?

I want my kids to understand that even when they’re snotty they are safe with me.  Do they understand that I still love them unconditionally and our heart connection is more important than faux compliance?

I haven’t arrived by any means.  Being a parent is the hardest and most rewarding thing a human can do.

One of the best rewards is that it gives me glimpses of God’s grace and lavish love for me.  Even when I’m the one flaunting the D word.

Would Jesus cuss?

What would happen if a scroll were discovered that shed a new light on the nuances in the words that Jesus spoke?

What if instead of calling the religious leaders, “white washed sepulchers” we learn that he was really saying, “You’re full of shit?”

How would King James handle that one?  “For verily, I say unto thee, thou art full of faeces!”

Why is this crazy thought so offensive?  I think it is because we’ve substituted a code of behavior for life transformed by his grace.  Because when you become a Christian, you’ve got to clean up your act, right?  (Which means no smoking, swearing, chewing or associating with those that do.)   And the first steps toward performance based Christianity are taken.

Truth is, Jesus was VERY offensive. He was a thorn in the flesh of the religious leaders nor did he mince words with them.  And I’m sorry, but Jesus did not speak the Queen’s English either; he spoke in the common language of the common man. He spoke so the uneducated and the simple could understand.

Somehow it’s much easier for me to think of the religious as those wearing tall pointy hats, swinging incense and chanting Latin.

No.  I need only look in the mirror to catch a glimpse of religion, try as I may to rid myself of it.  I find it anytime I sniff my disapproval at someone’s behavior.  I am confronted with it anytime I am offended because, after all, the Word of God says…...

And I know my tendencies well enough to know that if I lived in that earlier time, I would likely gasp loudest at Jesus’ heresy.  After all,we all know a good Christian would never swear.

Why is it that we gasp at outward behaviors and not at our own shortcomings and our need for grace?  You know the stuff…the stuff we work so hard at keeping hidden so we look good? 

Except for the love that transform me and frees me from the tyranny of Christian self improvement…I will remain on the treadmill judging others and remaining offended.   And also being judged and offensive myself.

Would Jesus cuss?  I don’t think he ever gave thought to his behaviors…his relationship with his Father defined who he was.  Living inside that love he remained holy; it wasn’t his committment to clean living.  But still- his extended invitation to enter into that same relationship with God sans condition was deeply offensive to the law keeper in us all. 

Living loved is the only thing that will make for the real changes.  Less gasping… more acceptance.  Less judgment and more love.

If anyone tries to tell you else wise, they’re full of….religion.

The irrelevance of relevance

balloons

Fun! Fun! Fun!

I was thinking about this the other day when we attended a community event sponsored in large part by a local mega church.  As I was walking around the bouncy things for the kids and navigating around people holding balloons that said, “Fun! Fun! Fun!” I had “What? What? What?” ringing through my head.

Here in the Bible belt the ingenuity to “reach the lost” never ceases to amaze.  Now don’t go thinking I”m not attacking these well-intended people; that’s not my heart.

Jesus was irrelevant on so many levels.  Take up your cross.  Love your rotten neighbor with the obnoxious teenager who guns his car.  Be nice to the jerk at Wal Mart.  And the one that makes my flesh crawl: Deny yourself.  Love your life and you’re going to lose it, Buster!

Somehow, I don’t think “Die! Die! Die!” balloons would be a good marketing move though.

How did what Jesus modeled and lived morphed into what we call the Gospel in the Western world?  Balloons? Circus Animals?  Rides for the kiddies?

Okay…so I get the idea behind this.  Lure them into a service so they can hear the Gospel.  Harness their over burdened schedules with meetings.  Guilt them into tithing for the new building wing even though they’re buried in debt and their marriage is on the breaking point because of it.

But by golly….we’re going to make disciples!  The Kingdom is a lot of work!

And according to the numbers, we wonder why people are leaving, nay, fleeing organized religion.  They know something’s not right but they can’t quite put a finger on it.  All they know is they’re tired….they’ve done the stuff….and they’re still broke, worried and harassed by life.

I sure don’t have all the answers but from my little corner I think it comes back to this quest to be relevant thing.  Jesus didn’t invite us to change our behavior or to try to make a message that was irrelevant to the masses relevant.  It isn’t about loving your neighbor or one upping your buddy so you can feel validated….He invited us into a relationship.

But because we’re so busy doing all this stuff…making disciples…attending meetings…passing out balloons….we forget that it all comes back to HIM.

If we don’t have time to sit at his feet and to learn of his love and allow it to transform our lives we’re going to continue on the same ole cow paths.

Everything Jesus did/say pointed to the Father.  His magnificent love for us and an invitation to enter into a relationship whereby we are transformed.  And then that love your neighbor stuff actually becomes a joy not another “to do” on the discipleship check list.

I certainly haven’t arrived at this but the little tastes of it I get on the way are indeed compelling.

Until we are willing to live loved and love others as we ourselves have been loved….well,  better stock up on those balloons.  theresa_sig

Christianty a la carte

The only thing more fun than people watching while eating a dog and Coke at Costco ($1.60!) is eavesdropping while you’re eating a dog and Coke at Costco.  (Did I mention it’s only $1.60?)

Yesterday conversation was amusing.  It was between a few women and lanky fellow with thick glasses and an overbite.  The topic: Church. A topic near and dear to my heard.

“There was a BAND!” woman #1 said.

Was that a gasp I heard or the HVAC system?

Nope.  I think it was a gasp.  “There were drums!  Git-tars! It was a regular BAAAAAAAAND.”

“NO!” Woman #2 said with disgust appropriate for the the discovery of a certain magazine hidden under her son’s mattress.

Overbite remained quit.

“And get this….the worship leader was a WOMAN!” woman #1 said in a stage whisper.

I plopped some more sauerkraut on my dog and took a swig of my Diet Coke.  This was getting good; but I dribbled some pop down my front.

“I’ll never go back there,” woman #1 said.

Overbite said something about a denomination; said that’s where they go. Ah! Woman #2 must be his help meet.

The scandalous conversation continued as they compared notes on what was appropriate for worship and what wouldn’t pass muster with the Almighty.

I slurped more Diet Coke and glanced away.  I think they were on to me.

A call interrupted their dialogue.  Overbite had to get back to the office.  And Help Meet had to go too.  The horrified one followed suit.  Yowsers!  Too bad her church didn’t have a doctrine about ill-fitting polyester pants.

And I was left alone with my thoughts.  That was fun.

Since when did Christianity turn into a salad bar or an a la cart menu?  A picking and choosing affair about how we view God….versus a simple relationship with Him?

Heavy on the lettuce….hold the bacon bits….oh wait….can’t have the bacon bits, they’re ungodly…Is the Blue Cheese more godly than the Thousand Island?

Oh, the silliness that ensues when we think of God as a good version of ourselves.  Or when we fashion an image of him based upon our opinions.

I suppose if you’re busy doing that stuff though, it keeps you distracted from doing the heavy lifting of loving that annoying neighbor and being nice to your family.

Saddest part though….it also keeps us from seeing the reality of his love and kindness.

Ah yes.  Life is full of learning opportunities.  Even at the Costco snack bar.  (Did I mention the dog and Coke are only $1.60?)

theresa_sig

The varnish of religion

This table, not unlike myself, is being stripped of its annoying finish

This table, not unlike myself, is being stripped of its annoying finish

Classic Theresa maneuver.  We’re in the midst of preparing to move and I’m trying to finish up a Math text before Molly’s debut in 8th grade.  So I decide it’s a perfect time to strip the kitchen table.

The table, a Craigslist bargain, is sturdy…beautiful….but the finish on it was awful.  The previous owner had stained it and used the wrong finish on the top so it felt tacky all the time.

Pretty crazy project to start but it really ended up being rather therapeutic.  Refinishing furniture was a hobby I enjoyed in the before kids’ days and doing this made me remember why.

I started with a heat gun and realized quickly that this stuff was too gummy to scrape up.  So I used a chemical and the fun began.  It was gratifying watching the annoying finish come up.  And then….POWER TOOL TIME!

Back and forth, back and forth.  I love my little finish sander.  As I was doing this I couldn’t help but think about the “finish” some people wear in religious circle.

There’s those glossy, high endurance people. They look impressive and I admit…I envy them sometimes.

Then there’s your garden variety finish…sturdy…not too flashy…maybe a few water rings from cups on the surface.

I think I’m probably in the “distressed” finish category.  (The first time I saw Bob Villa whip a bicycle chain on a perfectly good piece of furniture I thought he had lost his ever loving mind.)

I’ve since grown a little more fond of the distressed look. Not necessarily the bike chain kind…the sturdy furniture that shows the wear of a lot of life.

It just seems more honest and real to me.  Not to mention dependable.

My years in religion taught me a lot about finishes.  There’s a lot of stuff that gets glossed over and the performance driven agendas place more value on the shine than what’s underneath.  (Ie, a good Christian attends church, reads his Bible everyday and gives to the poor.  Never mind that the people he “fellowships with” have no idea that his marriage is falling apart and he’s deeply in debt and suffers insomnia because of the burdens weighing down his heart.)

Or for instance….here’s a little lingo and my current understanding of their meanings.

“Righteous indignation”:  As in, “I heard that Sally was watching that heretic Oprah and I felt righteous indignation.” Oh pish posh…you got pissed off because Sally’s behavior didn’t live up to your expectations.

“Grieved in my spirit”: some sorrow involved but pretty much the same thing as the first one.

“Standing on the Word”: This is similar to the prosperity crowds creed of “Fake it till you make it.”  Or…this is used when you’re dealing with fear and you’re trying to deny it. Look, I have no problem with clinging to a Scripture verse….they often comfort me….but let’s be real, okay?

“Fellowship”: This used to mean to me that your butt will be in a church building at a set time every Sunday.  If you’re really spiritual you’ll be there Sunday night too.  This meaning has deeply changed for me.  Now it means engaging in relationship with those my path crosses.   And learning to love people without trying to control them.

Polish and shine are fine on a table.  But when it’s used as a construct for relationship with our Creator or with one another it’s about as deep as…well, varnish.

I may just leave that table alone for a while.

theresa_sig

Is it about school or learning?

bookI love what Seth Godin said on his blog the other day:

Should this be about school or about learning?

School was the big thing for a long time. School is tests and credits and notetaking and meeting standards. Learning, on the other hand, is ‘getting it’. It’s the conceptual breakthrough that permits the student to understand it then move on to something else. Learning doesn’t care about workbooks or long checklists.

For a while, smart people thought that school was organized to encourage learning. For a long time, though, people in the know have realized that they are fundamentally different activities.

You can read the rest of here.

As I see the school buses back out in full force, I can’t help but wonder how many of the children will actually be learning today.  And how many are just in training for boring jobs that they will tolerate when the system says they’re done with school.

I don’t think it’s a foible unique to institutionalized schooling though.  Anytime we try to  systematize  mankind, something is lost.

I see it in corporate world….government…education…and perhaps the worst offender: religion.  Anytime I read about school vs. learning, I can’t help but draw a correlation with religion.

Textbooks don’t make an education any more than religious activity brings relationship with our Creator.

theresa_sig

You might be a legalist if….

….all the other churches are messed up except for yours.

….you have a hard time finding other believers with the same level of “conviction” you have.

…you believe breastfeeding, “God’s Way”, is a mandate from heaven.

…you have a checklist of activities that must be fulfilled in order to receive God’s promises.

…you believe the Bible is a guidebook for righteous living and not a love story that reveals God’s kind heart.

…you believe the fate of your neighbor’s eternal lives is dependent upon your prayers and Gospel presentations.

…you believe God’s favor on your life is a result of your “obedience to the word.”  (And if others would only get their act together, they too could have favor.)

This was where I lived for many years. (Much of this, anyway.  I could never quite dig the militant breastfeeding doctrine.)   The fruit of it was joyless living and defeat.  When I run into someone still ensnared in this stuff I feel sad for them.

It also makes me mad at religion and the destruction in brings to people.

I was thinking about this last night as I watched a show called “Wide Angle” on PBS.  It was about a young woman who wanted to compete in the Miss Israeli beauty contest.  Because of the religious sect she is part of, there were actual DEATH THREATS against her because the contest require appearing in a bathing suit on TV.  And even more sadly…her UNCLE was one of the three people arrested for plotting her murder.

Now granted, I’m personally not into bathing suit displays and would not be a happy mom if Molly decided to cavort around in one as part of a competition.  (And God forbid…if *I* ever did the bathing suit thing there would be an entirely different motive for any death threats received. ;) )

After much turmoil and anguish, the young woman met with a tribunal, er, the religious leaders, who “persuaded” her to drop her pursuit of her dream.

I couldn’t help but think of the similarities between this radical stuff and the Christian culture here in America. (Check out Greg Boyd’s Myth of a Christian Nation for more on this.)

Wanna learn more?  Join the conversation over at “The God Journey.”

Learning to live loved….relaxed in God’s Grace….is still a fairly new thing to me.  It’s disorienting and fabulously freeing all at the same time.

theresa_sig

What is your will, God?

Oh speak to me, Jesus!

Oh speak to me, Jesus!

I love to rise early. This morning I settled into my chair on the deck with my cup of coffee….and a LOT of questions on my mind. Where should we move to next? What will homeschool look like this year? What about the many dreams I have….that haven’t materialized?

I don’t know about you but when I have so many things on my mind, it makes me want to go back to bed.

The prayer that I’ve prayed many times over the years, (yeah verily…I can pray it in King James,) without even thinking. Lord what is your will? Will you open a door for (fill in the blank)? Please send me a sign…a prophetic word…a Scripture…oh, for crying out loud, even a timely fortune cookie would be welcomed.

And I’m coming to the conclusion that here is his answer: What do YOU want?

Yep. You read that right. What do YOU want? Yeah…YOU! What is YOUR will? What are YOUR dreams?

Lemme explain. Much like institutionalized schooling has dumbed down the masses, I think institutionalized religion has dumbed us down in the dreaming department. We’re taught from the pulpit about this mysterious will of God. Told to pray for it, to seek it earnestly, to pursue at all cost. Of course, this “will” is never very well explained…it’s sort of a vague target out there.

(Unless of course the kid’s Sunday school needs a teacher….) ;)

I remember years ago as a foot-loose single. I would attend the early morning prayer time with a few others at the church. One morning, I was standing at the map of the world posted on the wall browsing…dreaming…praying when the pastor, a man whom I greatly loved and looked up to, gave me a squeeze on the shoulder and pointed to Montana and said, “Focus, focus…”

The tacit message was clear. God’s will for you is here.

Did the pastor dude have malevolent intentions? Of course not. But looking back at this as a solidly middle aged woman, if I had it to do over again, I should have told him to take a flying leap.

Religion confines people. It says, “Don’t do that!” and uses the fear of missing God’s will as a powerful control mechanism. And again, I’m not throwing rocks at people…it comes with the nature of any institution.
The value of the institution and its goals supersede that of the individual.

In its extreme, it’s Jonestown. (Remember that mass suicide?)
Or in a more recognizable form: For me it involves rethinking that nebulous topic: “God’s Will” and exploring in a new way the freedom that God has granted to every human being as we were created in his image.
Failure to do so is as deadly to the soul as that Kool Aid was to the lives in Jonestown.

Wanna live in the woods like Thoreau did? Go check it out. Wanna find a spouse? Do whatever practical steps you need to take and move forward. Find a job that makes you happy? Investigate new job options. You get the idea. I think God moves when we move simply because of that freedom thing.

I’m not trying to minimize any of these things, remember I’m the one that was up at 6:00 thinking of my own issues.
But I think we need to change our mentality from “God would you open a door” to something like, “God, I’m going to move forward and trust that MANY doors ARE open and I’m going to trust you to CLOSE the ones that are of no value to me in my journey.”

It’s taking me several years to sort this out and it’s by no means a done deal. But I will say this, the sense of freedom and joy it brings far, far outweighs the discomfort of setting aside old familiar, comfortable ideas.

“…..If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours…” Thoreau

theresa_sig

We were born to dance

bluegrassCall me an old hippie….I love Bluegrass music. And this past weekend was one of our favorite annual events, Bluegrass Along the Harpeth.

Enjoying the music; living the life

Enjoying the music; living the life

Having grown up in the 60’s/70’s I guess I come by it naturally. One of my warmest memories growing up was listening to my sister, Mary, sing and play her 12-string guitar. (And I played guitar for many years though I prefer playing piano these days.)

Our lives were shattered when Mary died of cancer at the age of 26 in the early 80’s. I think part of my fondest of acoustic instruments is in part because it reminds me of my precious sister. (“C’mon people now, smile on your brother, everybody get together try to loooooove one another right now…..”) Okay, so the Youngbloods aren’t quite Bluegrass, but you know…

My appreciation for bluegrass has grown over the years as I’ve seen its appeal across the ages. You’ll find old and young alike playing and picking together. Like for instance, this elderly grandpa who met Daniel’s best friend, Daniel Rothwell, and taught him some of the Old Time tunes.

Or watching Daniel R. play banjo while his granddaddy, Thomas Maupin buck dances.
Or maybe it’s a gaggle of kids in a pick up session of Rocky Top.
I love watching the dancing. And I especially loved watching a vision impaired Down syndrome little girl whirl and dance in time. Mama picked her up at one time so she could feel the vibrations on the speaker too. My eyes got leaky watching that one.

Music is powerful stuff! It often reminds me of how we were all born to dance…to celebrate….to be free.

This was contrasted to me the next day when we attended a celebration for a young woman who had gotten off parole and overcome some serious obstacles. She was quite literally, celebrating her freedom (sans banjo).

This gal has been either in prison or on parole for 10 of her 28 years. Through the efforts of Vicki Harvey and Leaving the Cocoon, and her mentor, Joanne, this young lady is a testament to the changing power of love and grace.

Looking into her eyes and the loved ones that surrounded her yesterday as we rejoiced together in her victories….I could hear that sweet music again. And watch a different dance, of grace, unfold.

It was a very good weekend.

theresa_sig

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