Happy Birthday

It’s strange when your child has a birthday and they no longer live in your house.  Wishing him “happy birthday” was not in person, it was in a text, Facebook and phone messages.  I haven’t spoken with my first born today, and twenty years ago, I experienced the first amazing rush of unconditional love for my first child.   It’s strange to not see him or hear his voice or give him a hug. 

I've been told that this is what we do.  We bear them, we raise them and we send them.  We trust that the time spent in teaching and guiding and preparing them has given them the tools to be out in the great big world, finding their own journey toward their own definition of success.

This may sound like a lament, and I suppose, in a way, it is.  I’m sad I didn't get to embrace our son on one of those “milestone” birthdays.  But at the same time, I’m really proud of who he is and I trust that he is finding the best way to become who he wants to be. 

Whenever I watch the credits at the end of a film I dream of the day his name will be there.  I believe that one day I will be in the audience of a film awards program sitting next to him when we hear that a film he worked on wins for his cinematography expertise. 

He’s a pretty amazing young man.  He works full time and is taking three classes.  He even has a little part-time gig.  He bought his first round of groceries—buying $1000 worth of food and supplies for 40+% off.  He’s a chip off my coupon-clipping, sale-shopping block!  He isn't afraid to say “I love you” when I talk to him, and he gives warm hugs—sometimes without my asking!

Twenty years ago my title changed.  I am forever a mom.  Best.  Job.  Ever.

Living in a constant state of leaving

Jesus lived in a constant state of leaving, knowing that his time on earth, in human form, was limited.  He taught and ministered and healed and loved anyway.  His job here was to bring people into closer relationship with God, impacting them and the communities around them with his healing touch, his miracles, his love.  He didn't listen when people told him not to do these things.  He did them because he was called to serve his Father in this intimate and yet, very public way, and nothing the authorities could say would stop him.

His arrest did not stop him.
His conviction did not stop him.
Even the cross did not stop him.

He lived, always with the burden of limited time, and touched others with his presence.  He didn't hold back when someone was in need, when wine jugs were empty, when blind people needed to see, when lessons needed to be taught or when children needed an embrace.  He saw what was needed through compassionate eyes, knowing that every step he took was being watched, every meal he shared was judged, every moment of prayer was observed, every lesson was scrutinized and that each event in his life was limited.  To make a difference, he had to live in a constant state of leaving.

What if we lived in a constant state of leaving but did not leave a footprint on the places we have walked or a whisper in the ear of the people we have spoken with?  What if we were always observing the things happening around us but were not allowed to do or be or live in that community?  What if we left this world without leaving a mark on anyone?

 

Of course, this is impossible.  How we live impacts others.  How we understand what it is God has called us to do in our spiritual vocation and how we act in that faith makes a difference.  Even when we are stifled and given time limits, we can make a difference.  Knowing that at any point in life we are living in a state of leaving we need to receive as much as we can, learn the things we most need to learn and grow, even when some of those times leave us parched and withering. 

I wonder if all the push-back Jesus received from so many people left him parched.  I wonder if those were the times he went into the wilderness to be with his Father in prayer, to beg for strength and comfort.  Perhaps that is the lesson when we experience the depth of the emotions attached to living in a constant state of leaving:  that to really understand the personal calls to service and to understand our roles in that service, we need to go into the wilderness, begging for strength and comfort.

Jesus knew he was living in a constant state of leaving, but he had something more:  eternal life.  Every person who knows Jesus has the hope of eternity.  Jesus impacted lives then and he impacts lives now.  His earth-time was limited, but He Lives!

Alleluia!

Holy Hospitality

I’m spending a little time reading about hospitality.  I find hospitality to come in many different forms, and have most understood it to be a particular kind of welcome—generally of a “stranger” or someone new in one’s life.  But after reading today I have a little different understanding:

“Hospitality is an invitation from God to grow deeper in love.”  Christine D. Pohl. Living into Community: Cultivating Practices That Sustain Us (Kindle Location 1988).

I like this image.  Jesus and his followers spent a significant amount of time traveling around, accepting the hospitality of many, many people.  And Jesus frequently spoke about welcoming others into fellowship and most of the time, those we are to invite in are “strangers” or “others” or people who make us uncomfortable in some regard.  To see these kinds of expressions of hospitality as invitations from God to see, learn, experience and grow into deeper, loving relationships is a nearly breathtaking ‘aha’ moment.  

It isn't always easy to see the gift of this invitation.  Many of us tend to stick to the people who have been parts of our multiple circles, and sometimes those circles do not even touch!  We place relationships in silos of specificity.  Why?  It sometimes takes a major event, like a graduation party, for people from multiple venues to come together to meet, to celebrate, and to join together.  Other times lives cross for a moment, perhaps through the simple act of opening a door or smiling at a weary mom with her crying baby. When we accept the invitation, we are treated to a God-moment.

Being alive we are bombarded with opportunities to give and receive hospitality.  Sometimes we “get” it and pay attention to the offers.  Other times we let “stuff” get in the way:

“Hospitality and living truthfully meet here because welcome is not about putting on a show but about inviting people into our lives as we live them.” (Pohl:  Kindle Locations 2013-2014).

How often have I held back an invitation, or refused an invitation because my “house” was not in tip top form?  And I don’t just mean my physical house, I mean my heart, my sense of self, my physical response to others, my emotional state of mind.  I live a messy existence in my head sometimes.  Sometimes the house is a mess.  Sometimes my ability to love is cluttered with ugly self-talk and doubt.  As I've gotten older I have begun to realize that “all of me” is worthy of relationships, that my voice counts, that I do not have to pretend to be someone I am not.  And some people will be able to accept this, while others will not or cannot.   And it’s okay, even when it doesn't feel very good.  Because, “hospitality is an invitation to mutual truthfulness” (Pohl:  Kindle Location 2014), and if I can learn to accept myself without putting on a show, then I hope to be willing to accept others as they do the same.

Dear God, thank you for the many opportunities to experience you through and in the hospitality of others.  Keep my mind open to the experiences placed before me and let me be who I am without putting on a show, so that I can fully welcome the invitation to both giving and receiving holy hospitality.  Amen.