Tag: faith

Posted on

Why creativity within faith can be challenging

As certainly as the sun will rise in the east, it is known that fall leads to winter, followed by spring and finally summer. These things we know. We may compare the seasons to one another, but we know that each has its gifts. And with each, we also experience change. We are currently transitioning from spring into summer. The Summer Solstice.

Also happening in June

June has also become known as Pride month. The annual celebration of the 1969 Stonewall Riots in New York City.  It’s a time to commemorate the impact the LGBT+ community has had on the world. Just this week, the Supreme Court of the United States ruled that the 1964 Civil Rights Act protects LGBT+ individuals from discrimination ‘based on sex’ in the workplace. A significant victory and step forward for our country and for people who have been unfairly discriminated against for how they were born and who they love.

I could easily continue about the countless other serious, unjust, issues within the United States at this time, but those will be the subject of another blog, another day. I still have much interior work to be done on those matters. On the issue of LGBT+ and change, I have done significant work on many levels. Which circles back to the challenges of creativity within faith.

Getting to the point

Raised a Christian, I’ve attended church my entire life. Sitting in the pews, listening, not questioning. Ok, maybe not entirely listening, and yes, women submit to your husbands I may have questioned when I was a high-minded college student. But generally, I honestly didn’t think to much about it one way or another. Church, what was preached, it was. I didn’t think about the believing part, it was. There was no question of any other options.

For many people, that’s the way it is. You don’t think about. The teaching is that the Word is without error, so you do not question it. As you grow, you’re taught to read, to understand, to bring it into your heart, and I did. But you guys, there was stuff that began to not make sense to me. When you start to wonder if it could be different, if there’s another way to look at it, those questions can be scary.

Questions more than comparison

Asking questions within Bible study, at least the ones I was part of, for example…whoa, whoa, slow down. It was as though I was comparing what the Bible said to a three headed dog rather than asking what I thought were interesting questions. Or, told I was being disrespectful. So, I stopped asking.

That scariness feels like you’re on the outside. It feels as though if you’re not with us, you’re against us. Scary because it feels like judgement. And that? That feels like shame.

And not asking, accepting, that’s ok for the vast majority of people. It is. But it wasn’t for me. I had people within my life, my own flesh and blood, who are gay. Nowhere within my heart could I believe that, as written, God did not love flesh of my flesh. I could not. Yes, it was my gut. And yes, there were those who told me the Bible was clear. But that’s not what my heart told me. I could not understand that when those words were written 2000+ years ago, there was even a remote consideration of future circumstances and ongoing human evolution.

How to be creative within faith

Being creative within faith feels like you’re out on a bit of a limb. I cannot lie about that. Am I making stuff up? Absolutely not. I have consulted with pastors. I have read books, articles, listened to podcasts, followed websites. Talked to more pastors. Honestly, I continue to go to church, albeit one that is affirming of LGBT+ people because and would not, cannot do otherwise. But it took creativity, and not allowing the comparison from others, which is really a form of judgment, to stop me, to overshadow the work I was doing. Creativity in the examination of what I believe. It was an internal inspection, undertaken because it was too important not to.

And you may or may not agree with what I believe. That’s ok too. Our relationship with Jesus, with His love, which is intended for every single person is personal. We feel it, we take it in, we share it with others. How we do it? It’s up to us. No longer do I search the drawer for the cookie cutter. And tomorrow, it’s Sunday, and though I will watch the church I love celebrate ALL online, I will also go outside, in nature, where I believe Jesus will be with me, celebrating the change of seasons and the Summer Solstice.

Be Brave friends. Lisa

Posted on

Lean in to glory

Who we areI was born with a known problem in the way blood flowed to my left foot. Basically, I had too much blood in my foot (fancy medical term… arterial venous fistula) and by the time I was three months old, the doctors had told my parents that I would have to have it amputated, which happened when I was four. I don’t spend a lot of time talking to my parents about it, but there have been moments. One aspect that has stuck with me is that my mother has told me that there were people in her life who told her that my birth defect was a result of some sin she must have committed.

At the time of the conversation, I remember thinking that was a bunch of baloney, and I haven’t spent time thinking about it. Until the other day when I read this passage in the book of John.

John 9: 1-3: As he went along, he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” Neither this man nor his parents sinned,” said Jesus, “but this happened so that the works of God might be displayed in him.”

As I read it, I found myself connected to the words in a new way. I’m not of the mindset that people are sinning, doing wrong, constantly. I don’t believe my mother, or anyone, committed a sin and that God thought, “yeah, I’ll show them for that one.” I just don’t. I believe people want to do their best. Are we a hot mess on any given day, yes. Do we struggle with issues defined as sin, yes. But I simply believe the vast majority of people wake up each day, and strive to do good, not sin. So I connected to the shift. Did you catch it?

Instead of focusing on a sin, Jesus looked at the man and healed his blindness. He focused on the glory in the healing.

Here’s how the rabbit trail connected to me as I read those words. I was born with a condition which put me in a unique position to God’s unique works in me. Because, after my foot was amputation, it was essentially back to business as usual. Meaning, I grew up doing normal kid things. I learned how to ride a bike, ski, hike, ride a horse, dance (albeit poorly) … with my prosthetic leg. But as I got older, particularly when I was cycling avidly, I noticed that people would make comments to me. Encouragement. When I was racing triathlons, people would tell me I encouraged them being out there. It seemed so weird to me. Truly. I was just doing my thing. But I thought about it. And I began to see that maybe God was working through me, encouraging other people to try, because that’s what I was doing, trying.

Because I was simply born this way. It wasn’t the result of anything but the way I was formed in my mother’s womb. The same way my own children were formed in my womb. They were each born uniquely. Born the way they are, the way God made them, perfectly. And I believe there is glory being worked in and through each one of them.

Just as there is glory being worked through you. If we put limits on it, thinking there is some sin, or some barrier to the glory, we’re not living our full life. Lean in to the glory working in you, through you. Every single one of you, and know it’s all part of the plan.

 

 

 

Posted on

Resurrection Happened in the Dark

ResurrectionWhen I was a teenager, I can recall having an unspoken bedtime of 9 p.m. It’s when my Dad went to bed, and I never thought to stay up any later. As a result, I’ve never been (ok, there was a short stint in college and my early 20’s) a late sleeper. I rise early and as time has gone on, early has been redefined to, what some would call, the middle of the night. 4 a.m. I get up, work out, spend quiet time…over three hours of me time before heading to the office.

Maybe fifteen years ago, in the height of my cycling life, I started riding with a girlfriend in the early morning hours. We’d log 40 miles before going to work. As a result, I became familiar with the signs of the night shifting into dawn. Studying the stars as we pedaled through the countryside and watching as they faded, and the horizon turned from inky black to shades of indigo, to red, orange and eventually – if we were out long enough – we’d see the edges of the sun.

I came to love this time of day and it’s stayed with me. Experiencing the dark, the stillness of the early morning. There’s a renewal at that time of day, palpable in the darkness, a time of newness and possibility. The possibility of restoration of life.

I recently read Barbara Brown Taylor’s book, Learning to Walk in the Dark, well worth adding to your list. In it, she explores what we can learn in the darkness, but to do so, we need to learn to walk in the dark. We must “sign a waiver that allows you to bump into some things that may frighten you at first.” We must practice. Already having a love of the actual darkness of the early morning drew me to her words.

And then I ran across a line that caused me to stop, reread, and revisit once I moved past it. “Resurrection happened in the dark.”

As a Christian, I reflected how we focus on the fulfilled promise in resurrection with our eye on the third day. But the second day…a day of darkness…that’s where the resurrection was taking form. We don’t know what happened that day. It’s darkness. But it’s a critical day for what follows. There would be no resurrection without the darkness.

In our own lives, the darkness often causes fear. Darkness represents a side that we often want to avoid. Except…it’s necessary. For growth, we must wrestle through the darkness. It’s a space of learning, growing, expanding. And it can be scary, we bump up against things we may not have expected or want to face. When I think of the literal darkness I willingly embrace every day, and the learning that comes from spending time reflecting on the metaphorical aspects of what’s taking shape in the dark, it causes me to pause.

In what ways could we expand our understanding if we are willing to explore the darkness. What would come to life, be resurrected, if we spend time listening to what darkness will teach us? Darkness can be uncomfortable, we may be confronted with different ideas, understandings…and those could creep into the light. So be it.

We can, and do, celebrate resurrection. But don’t rush past the darkness. Darkness that looks different for you than it does for me. Has a different learning for you than it does for me because we are made uniquely and have different areas of ourselves to develop in the darkness. What we’re bringing to light through our journeys in the dark may bring joy and a deeper understanding. Our own resurrection.

Posted on

You are loved

For God so loved the worldToday marks the beginning of the biggest week in the life of the church. Palm Sunday. The day that Jesus entered Jerusalem for the final period of his life leading up to Easter. When I visited Israel last year, we walked down the same path Jesus would have walked on that journey. Down a hill with a beautiful view of the gates of Jerusalem. It’s the beginning of the week that symbolizes the fulfillment of scripture, and brings to mind the verse, “For God so loved the world.” The verse continues with “that He gave his only son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have everlasting life.” (don’t get lost in the details if I don’t have that 100% right. It’s from my sleep hazy, coffee fueled mind – but you get the point).

For God so loved the world. I found myself getting stuck right there yesterday. It rolled around in my mind while I meditated. We’ve heard it said over and over, but I think we lose the essence of it. It gets watered down, or we focus only that later part of the verse. Don’t get me wrong, that part is critically important, I believe it and find peace in it. But God so loved the world.

Loved the world. That means every single one of us. He loved us. That means me, that means you.

During my meditation as I listened for the still, small voice, I sensed the deep meaning of God loving us. It’s more than we could ever fathom. It’s as we are, in the moment, each day. He formed us in our mother’s womb. To me that means He knew what was coming next. He knew how we’d turn out. Me, with my birth defect and later amputation – check – knew it was coming. He knew our wiring, it’s how we were made to be. From the beginning. And He loved us.

As those thoughts rolled around in my head, I felt that still small voice telling me, “now you’re getting it.” And I listened. Knowing that the love is for all of us. Without exception.

What if we believed it? Those of us who feel unlovable. Who feel like we need to be someone different that who we are to be loved. Who engage a practice of holding off loving ourselves until we reach some magical state. The right weight, a level of success, a point in our relationships where we have it “just right.” We don’t allow ourselves to feel love that is freely available to us because we condition that love. We listen to other voices telling us there is something else to it. Something else to that acceptance.

If you truly believed that love what would you do differently? Knowing that you are loved beyond measure – a concept which our minds lack the ability to truly comprehend. But even if you do, just a little, it’s a game changer.

The message that God so loves the world gets lost in a puzzle of rules or conditions, but the message is simple. Let it sit in your heart. God loves you. Feel it in your heart. Now…share that love with others.

Posted on

Slow the internal narrative

Conversations in my headIt’s a party! Seriously. Every day. In my head. The left, right, frontal, amygdala, all getting in the mix, spinning in so many different directions I get dizzy. I could label the voices, there are those that are what I suppose other people would be saying, a couple that swirl in ‘what if’ land, a few more that believe they’re in acting school – walking out a variety of conversations and situations at any given time… and then there are those that are quieter. The little girl inside me, the still, small voice of God. Those voices get drowned out most of the time by the others that are arm wrestling for front and center, but they’re there.

I began to hone in on the voices, the tornado of thoughts, a few years ago, realizing that all the noise (because that’s what it is, loud, obnoxious noise) is nothing more than that. It’s not actually what’s happening. It’s easy to convince yourself that the way you play things out in your mind will happen, but still, it’s not truth, not fact. Yet, the voices are so distracting. They can divert us from life right in front of us. In our minds, we can make situations so much worse.

When I started to become aware of the runaway train in my mind was around the same time I began learning about mindfulness. The practice of being present. Of eliminating the distractions so that I can be present with myself or with others in the moment. It made sense to me. But in practice, was not quite a simple as it presented itself to be.

For one, the voices in my mind still would not shut up. Determined to create more stillness, I turned to  meditation. Years ago, I would meditate daily, truly helpful I believe. But it fell away as my time became tighter. To quiet my mind, I tried a meditation app, one that had guided meditation. If someone else was talking, there was a much higher likelihood that my mind wouldn’t. By and large that worked, not entirely, but slowly it got better. I found that 15 minutes a day can be carved out and the stillness has a trickling effect throughout the day.

Another idea I was encouraged to try was eating without distraction. No book, no phone, no TV – even when I was alone. Ummm, seriously? When I was with another person, no problem. But alone? What would I do with my mind? That was the point. Nothing. Focus on the food, the texture, the flavor, the experience.  I started experimenting with it. I can not promise you I’m a poster child for it, but I’m working on it.

Mindfulness would have you stop multi-tasking, which is a sham anyways. You can’t effectively focus on two things at a time. You’ll end up half focusing, or less, on both. I find I have an advantage here because my mind has less capacity to multi-task than it used to. The desire is there, but less so because my brain straight up doesn’t want to work like that. So, one thing at a time.

Ok, so a few mindfulness tactics worked in, and they help. But the internal narrative is still there. The difference is I can see it happening. I began using a strategy last year of naming the voices. Is it the voice of fear, or perseverance, maybe joy? And I would ask myself, what is it trying to tell me? I also started asking the voices questions. What was the little girl in me trying to tell me, to remind me of? Truly listen to what I was hearing.

If we’re honest, most of us have the voices. The question is how can you be the one calling the shots instead of them? What mindful practices can you put in place to quiet them? What are they trying to tell you? Just for a moment, take a breath in, hold it, gently sigh out. Do you feel the stillness? I encourage you to engage that practice, or another mindfulness practice several times during the day and still your mind. And when you’re ready, listen carefully, your wisdom will be ready to talk to you.

 

Posted on

It’s a big deal

you matterIt’s not infrequent for me to meet someone and months later, they realize I have a prosthetic leg. Maybe it’s winter, or they never see me in a skirt, and I certainly don’t start my elevator speech with “Hi, I’m Lisa and I have a prosthetic leg.” In fact, it’s something I rarely mention, so often goes unnoticed. Until it is.

And when it is, the uncomfortable conversation ensues. They ask, I have my synopsis, birth defect, amputation, and without fail, I end that explanation by saying, “it’s not a big deal.” Partially, I say it so that if the conversation started awkwardly, I let them off the hook. But I also say it to minimize it and move on.

But it is a big deal.

It’s a big deal that I overcame. With help, but I overcame it. When I was a little girl, it was amputated and I spent a few months in the hospital normalizing it, i.e. playing, swimming, learning to walk with a prosthetic, getting me back up to four year old speed so I could launch back into the world. My parents were fantastic and treated me as though nothing was different, my friends honestly never knew me without my prosthetic, and life continued.

But it is a big deal.

I find it fascinating to watch people who’ve experienced a hardship in their life. Perhaps medical, maybe relational, financial, job loss. You can see the discomfort they feel when someone comes alongside them. To sit with them in the middle of the “stuff.” You’ll hear that familiar phrase, “it’s no big deal.” The brush off. Nothing here to see.

We minimize and, in that moment, lose an opportunity to connect on a deeper level. To allow ourselves to be close up in life with another person, to allow them to share our story. We want to be soldiers, like the one I was as a little girl. Or like a stubborn child who says “I can do it myself.” People, we’re not wired like that. We try, I try, oh do I try. But we’re not fundamentally wired that way. Others want to come alongside us not out of pity, but because they care about us.

It’s a big deal. What’s a big deal is that some of us do it in hard times, AND we do it when we’re rockin’ it. When we have crushed our goals, or a project, or an accomplishment. We say it’s not a big deal, we deflect, we play small. Why do we do that? Honestly, I know you’re out there, person like me who falls into this camp. Why?

What would it look like to stop deflecting? To stop making light or small of our life? What if I could say, “My foot was amputated when I was four due to a birth defect,” and stop right there? What if when congratulated for an accomplishment, we said thank you, and stopped right there? If I’m telling the truth, I feel a bit squirmy thinking about it. But the opposite of making ourselves smaller isn’t boasting, or being grandiose, it’s simply being. Acknowledging. Accepting. Being grateful for our journey.

Standing in our own space, it’s a big deal. It feels bold. It’s who we’re called to be. Thanks for being on the journey with me.

 

Posted on

Be Still

Be StillI recall a time when I could not be in my house without having noise. Usually, I’d come home from work and turn the television on. Not to watch it, but to have the background noise. To have silence felt deafening and uncomfortable. Uncomfortable with my own thoughts, which could simultaneously be headed in a hundred different directions and reminding me of the ways I needed to do better, do more. I can recall visiting my mom’s house and there was no television, no music, nothing. Silence. It felt oppressive.

Over time, the balance has shifted and now, my preference is quiet. In a way, it’s a chance for my mind to stop being over stimulated. Which, let’s be honest, happens to each of us every single day. If we’re not listening to something, we’re viewing. Our phones provide non-stop entertainment and options. Literally, every second we’re awake we can be occupied somewhere other than within our own mind.

There are days where that’s honestly the preferred alternative. Our thoughts meander in a million directions and being alone with ourselves can be intimidating.

But…

The advantages to being still are immense. Consider a few: increased immune function; lowered blood pressure; lowered heart rate; increased awareness; increased attention and focus; increased clarity in thinking and perception; lowered anxiety levels, the list goes on. If we know the benefits are there, why are so many of us resistant? Seriously, I desire to be still, to be mindful, but I have to consciously focus to simply eat breakfast without simultaneously checking my email. Mind you, not if someone is sitting across from me, but if I’m alone, multi-task is the name of the game.

Except that multitasking is a scam. Held out as a skill, it’s virtually impossible to effectively multi-task. Our attention is not fully with either task, not our best work. So why do so many of us continue to juggle so many balls in the air? Wouldn’t it be better if we narrowed in on one thing at a time?

Be still. Several times within the Bible we’re told to Be Still. It’s as though we’re being told to ‘take a breath,’ ‘slow down,’ a command to remind us that God’s got us. If we don’t take time to be still, we miss that. Our own thoughts, activities, drown out the inner stillness that comes from being alone with God. Alone with ourselves. With our dreams, with our desires. We miss connecting with that part of ourselves because we’re busy. Miss the still small voice of God because we’re busy all…the…time.

Over the last few years, I’ve consciously begun practicing stillness. And you know what? I love it. Love being alone with myself. Not because I don’t want to be with other people, but because I like being alone. Later today, I’m headed to a one-day women’s retreat held a few hours from my home. I chose to come over a day early so that I could have alone time. Could take a breath and be still. I’ve gone away for an alone weekend each year for the last few and have found it restorative. It’s becoming easier each year to not overpack the time. And as much as I’d like to relax at home, and I do, it’s not the same. When I’m away, it’s out of my environment. There are no floors to mop, dishes to clean. The regular distractions are removed.

Later today I’ll connect with other women, but last night and at the moment, I’m in the presence of no one I know. Other than ordering coffee, because…honestly…coffee is necessary…I haven’t talked to anyone today. It’s a chance to take a breath. Slow down and be alone with me, with God. I find clarity in the stillness because the cobwebs in my head are brushed away.

If you haven’t incorporated a practice in your life to be still, to silence your mind for moments during the day, try it. It can be as simple as focusing on a word, saying it silently to yourself as you breath slowly and close your eyes. Or it can be focusing on a symbol an object you love and letting your eyes rest on it, breathing in the beauty. Being still. Each of us could afford a few moments in the day to be still and connect with ourselves. You’ll find when you do, the inner connection will carry with you through the day. Take a breath friends, listen to the still small voice and know, you’ve got this.

 

Posted on

Hurt and Anger

hurt and angerI am not an angry person. I know people who say they’re angry, often, but that’s not something that comes to my mind. Until…I took my deep dive into the Enneagram. What I learned was that my type, the 9, the peacemaker, is “asleep” to their anger. It’s not that the anger isn’t there, it’s that they don’t even recognize it, they don’t associate with it. Um…ok…that got my attention.

I once met with a friend I hadn’t seen in quite a while. At the time, I’d gone through my coaching class and was increasingly self-aware. She made a comment that I used to seem “angry all the time.” This was pre-Enneagram and I remember being surprised and thinking that I didn’t recall being angry. When I learned the Enneagram, her comment came back to me, clicked into place and made more sense than I was comfortable with.

Describing myself as angry is something I wouldn’t do, it’s an uncomfortable emotion for me. Maybe you’ve felt the same way. Anger feels almost dangerous to me, an emotion that there must be a way to get around. Except there’s not. Post-Enneagram, I’ve noticed that uncomfortable emotion, and made an effort to recognize it when it comes up.

At the same time, I think about hurt. Stay with me. Hurt and anger are two sides of the same coin. No, really. Anger often comes from hurt, it’s a response that allows us to do something with the hurt we feel. Because if we don’t do something with all that hurt, it simply simmers inside of us. Eats at us. We want to make it go away but that’s a hard ask without action.

I’ve noticed there are different ways that people can take their anger, their hurt and act. A few month’s ago, I went to a women’s empowerment conference. On the second day of the conference, I was walking to lunch thinking about an uncomfortable feeling I was having. There was an intangible I couldn’t put my finger on about the conference. Then it dawned on me, there were a lot of angry women there. Anger manifesting itself in action, but negative anger. Railing out against “the man,” which in this case actually was man, the laws, the behaviors, that prevented women from equality. I did not share the anger, which explained my discomfort.

That said, there are circumstances which I am not in agreement with, and I am pro-equal rights for women, but how I choose to respond is different than anger. I don’t want to leave you with the impression that the conference was purely a fight against male oppression. Far from it. Dynamic female speakers shared thought provoking insights into a wide variety of topics and I was thankful for attending. I simply noticed the simmering anger.

I’m finding that I also have a spirit to do something about circumstances that I don’t agree with, but it comes from a different place. A broken heart. My heart breaks for people who are made to feel “less than.” I fundamentally see the equality and sameness in people. When I see people being treated as though they’re doing something wrong simply for being who they were born to be, it hurts my heart. That’s when I feel anger. The broken heart “anger” makes me want to come alongside people, to show them God’s love, love that God has for each and every one of us.

So, while I may not like the emotion of anger, I can see where it serves a purpose. It gives my hurting heart a way to action. Honestly, understanding anger through the lens of the Enneagram allowed me to name it, and move through it, rather than allowing it to simmer. I’m still not comfortable with it, and it feels bold to even say I have it, but that’s my plan this year, being bold. I’d ask you to think about hurt and anger in your own life. How does it come up and what are you doing about it? Recognize it so that you can heal and move forward, whether it be into action, forgiveness, acceptance, whatever your heart needs to have peace. That’s your brave path friends. I’m on it with you.

Posted on

Touch a heart

Touch heartsBeverly Hills 90210 was the TV show when I was in my early 20’s. The hairstyles, the romance, the drama. It was beyond easy to stay hooked in and watch the train frequently head off the tracks. So, when I learned this week that Luke Perry, who played one of the main heartthrobs, Dylan McKay, died after a stroke, I nearly shed a tear. What struck me most is that he was only a year old than I am. Far to young to be dying. This death, coinciding with an awareness that others my age are more frequently having serious health issues, made me stop and think.

Maybe it’s also my age, the tipping point where it’s not uncommon to start taking a deeper look at life. I don’t hide the fact that I think, and think and think, about life. I show up each day and do a job, I have relationships, but there’s an intangible element that I long for. A common thread shared by people of all ages, not just this midlife season I find myself in.

I desire to make a difference.

And not at a surface level. I have a longing to impact lives, people’s hearts. To spark lasting change in someone’s life so that they feel loved, believe that they matter. Believe they are loved by God. Each and every one of us is loved by God, and each and every one of us matters.

Why is it that it takes death, or illness, or tragedy to remind those of us who are well to take a deeper look? It’s easy to fall into our ruts and live out our lives stuck in the day to day. Not only can we make a difference in other people’s lives, but we can also make one in our own. The patterns we fall into are comfortable, easy, but can lead to falling asleep to our lives. To the bigger purpose we’re here for. To the great, BIG life that’s right in front of us.

So what to do about that? How to make a difference now? Get uncomfortable. Step out of your comfort zone. Be kind to the people around you, even when you don’t want to. Skip complaining and focus on gratitude. Do something BOLD, BRAVE that comes from living your authentic life. We only have one, and it matters. You matter. Whoever you are and whatever your circumstance, you matter. To the people around you and to God. Every single one of you.

Posted on

Return to simple love

let friends be themselvesHave you ever watched a baby playing? Around nine months old when they’re curious and amused by the smallest of actions. They’re mobile enough to be getting into things, but still at the age where it takes little to create joy on their faces. I was delighted the other day to have a co-worker bring her son to work for a few hours. One, I have an affinity to this kid because he shares the name of my son, Bodie. Second, babies at work bring a lightness to what, at times, can be a serious atmosphere.

Bodie sat on the floor next to the door and swung it one way, crawled over to where it landed, and swung it the other. In all honesty, I sat watching him as though he was baby Einstein solving advanced calculus problems. Back and forth…over and over. I thought in that moment how simple life is when we’re babies. Our reality is made up of that which is directly in front of us…our mom…and our dad. Our challenges are putting Cheerios into our mouth with accuracy and working on walking.

Somewhere along the way though, a narrative begins forming in our minds. We start to make sense of what’s happening around us, the relationships we have. We fill in blanks for ourselves when the story doesn’t quite make sense. There’s a learning about what helps us succeed in our life, even at a young age. Behaving, learning, achieving, it becomes evident what makes our parents give us praise. Human nature loves that praise…as young children we figure out the system.

At least, we figure out the system that works for us, in our family. But not all families are the same. As a young child, I had to go to bed EARLY, I mean….my friends were still outside playing, right outside my window in the meadow in front of our home. It seemed unfair, why did they get to stay up? Granted, it was still light as day…stays light past my 7 p.m. bedtime in the summer. But still. And, the injustice of other kids being able to eat sweets whenever they wanted! I got a quarter, once a week, to walk to the store and get a piece of candy. In hindsight, that one wasn’t a bad strategy. I was in my 30’s before I had my first cavity.

The comparisons we form lead to judgement. As we grow into adulthood, our experiences, the realities of childhood, become ingrained in us. We start using our reality to measure others. To judge them. How your family loaded the dishwasher or put on the toilet paper roll becomes a yardstick for measuring right and wrong. Of course, that’s the tip of the iceberg, if we’re not careful, our judgement can run deep into core beliefs and measuring others against our standards.

That’s the point where the rubber meets the road in relationships. We weren’t raised by the same two people and how I made sense of the world may not be how you made sense of the world. What do you do then? In simple terms, you seek to understand. Understand their perspective. That doesn’t mean you have to adopt it but understanding where they’re coming from is a starting point for conversation. It’s easy to slip into wanting to judge another’s belief as right or wrong, but that’s not our job. Our job is understanding and giving space for people to be themselves. Our job is to love, not to clobber. To remember that we have a lifetime of input behind our beliefs, but so does the other person. We were born uniquely us and continue to be that way. If we could learn to love people where they are, I believe we’d have solved one of life’s biggest challenges.  Star with today, and then tomorrow, love other people, just as God loves us.