The Outer Court

When I was a little girl I can still remember my Sunday school teacher describing the temple of Bible times. I thought it was sad that some areas were off limits to so many. All I could think of was the door that was off the right side of the pulpit that my daddy preached in. The expensive sound system was kept there. Us kids had no business back there…we were not allowed on the other side of that door. My little mind guessed that the temple had a microphone and speaker system, too.

It wasn’t that simple. The temple was more complex than our modern day sanctuaries…also known as auditoriums for those in my circles growing up.

Lately, the outer court of the temple has caught my attention. This area was also known as the Court of the Gentiles. So many areas were off limits to most or at least some. But this area was different. The outer court was open to all foreigners, far and wide. There were no limitations on race or gender. Everyone was welcome. Everyone could worship.

This is also the place were Jesus became angry, fashioned a whip, and flipped some tables.

We know the story. It was almost Passover, so Jesus went to Jerusalem. As he made his way into the temple, he saw people selling animals and exchanging foreign money. The writer John tells us Jesus took enough time to make a whip with some things he found on hand. Brandishing his new creation he then chased the people right out of the temple. He scattered the animals and left money lying all over the floor, just before he turned the tables upside down. He bellowed, “Stop turning my Father’s house into a marketplace!”

His disciples thought back onto prophecies they had learned from their Jewish upbringing. Religious leaders were confused and shocked; some were even mad. People today use this account to justify anger and to condemn some churches for money making strategies or what they may see as gimmicks.

***

The American church now leans heavily toward success as seen in the eyes of the business world. We now look at the quantitative side of things…increasing numbers, both in congregational attendance numbers and in bank account dollar signs. Success and growth tends to be measured by the acquisition of land or the number of campuses and connections. These things are easily counted, logically justified, and have the first-world stamp of approval.

Qualitative matters make many uncomfortable. The lines are blurry here and results are sometimes harder to define. Sometimes the qualitative sparks more emotion and creates space for interpretations and opinions. Much of the time this leads to confrontation, only due to an unwillingness to embrace the qualitative, and communicate openly and honestly while leaning into love.

Quantitative…easier to measure…black and white…safe.

Qualitative…not easily defined…a world of grey…vulnerable.

***

There was purpose behind the selling of the animals to the people coming for Passover. The journeys had been long and hard on foot by most or with the help of livestock at best. The majority had to find sacrificial animals once they reached their destination. The merchants had to sell their products to meet the needs of the ones desiring redemption in worship.

These same travelers came from different regions and far off places. Different cultures, different dialects, different currency. The money they had in their pockets and purses had no value unless it was exchanged for the money that was accepted in Jerusalem. There was purpose in the presence of money changers.

We do not know if these merchants inflated their prices or not. We do not know if the money changers gave the correct rate of exchange. One would hope that ethical practices were present at all times, but surely at least this was the case in the days leading up to such a celebration and remembrance. But we just do not know.

What do we know?

Jesus became filled with righteous anger.

What else do we know?

This situation took place in the outer court of the temple…where everyone had a place to worship in peace and joy with God the Father.

What’s the connection?

The qualitative interaction of relationship between people and God was impeded and interrupted by the quantitative business transactions of the religious.

***

If Jesus was here today in the flesh, I wonder if he would be flipping tables over and running folks out of buildings we call churches while striking a whip. He just might. Are our intentions and purposes modeled and mirrored after Jesus? We should reflect and ponder on if he would approve of how we treat those that shepherds and leaders have deemed employees while forgetting they are also part of a flock, not to mention a brother or sister. Perhaps he would turn angry when our non-profits loose direction when pride gives them ultimate authority, and orphanages are turned into businesses instead of homes.

The existence of financial decisions and the establishment of procedures and methods are needed in any entity. This is the case in businesses, churches, organizations, and even homes. It provides security and guidance and accountability. There is purpose for these things. But…

In the church and it’s extensions when we elevate business and quantitative matters over the quality of God breathed relationship and love of others then we are metaphorically filling the outer courts of God’s temple with self-absorbed preoccupation of what our culture deems as important.

And when this happens…perhaps a few tables should be flipped.

 

 

Week 5 and 6: 2024...gotta play catch up!

 It’s 11:18pm. 

42 minutes until a new week starts. 

January is now gone. Fair riddance. 

Today we celebrated 78 years of my momma. She said it was the best birthday since her 40th. Her happiness makes me happy. 

The girls are asleep, catching up from a very hectic and fun ComingHome week at WHS. Jackson is enjoying a weekend on campus. 

Like many late nights my mind rests on them. The three kids. 

My mind whirls with things I want to make sure they know without sounding overbearing and insulting. I have always wanted to guide them, but never force them into behaviors in the name of fear or people pleasing. My goal is mothering in love, advocating with boldness, and walking humbly alongside them. I have fallen short more than once. I talk too much, worry when I should not, lose my cool, and overcommit. God, forgive me. I pray they do as well. 

This week I had a concersation with someone. It ended with the individual saying something along these lines..."It's just not worth it. It isn't worth my time."

Tonight I want the three kids to know this…

You are worth this loss of sleep tonight. 

You are worth every penny that I have spent on the right outfit, new shoes, each fast food stop, and everything in between. 

You are worth each trip to games, competitions, and activities.

You are worth the time spent in prayer. 

You are worth every meal I have made. 

You are worth the tears. I thank you for the laughter. You are worth that too. 

Every road trip or vacation...you are for sure worth it.

You are worth the arguments and disagreements. 

You are worth the homeworks assignments, 4-H and Beta speeches, and school projects.

You are worth each Christmas Eve I have spent collaborating with Santa till the wee hours of the morning.

You are worth each secret keep.

You are worth every struggle shared. 

Each kiss and hug...you are more than worth it.

Jackson, Nancy Caroline, and Sadie...you are worth so much more to me than I can explain. From the time you each took your first breath, you have been the air that I breathe. And I would not change that for one second. 

2024: Week 4

 

Bob Goff. I have read every book. I follow him religiously on social media. When he visited a church in Murfreesboro I was the first to sign up. I have visited Tom Sawyer Island in Disneyland hoping to see him in his element. He speaks my language and he is definitely an encourager for me. I was so happy that we had a discussion with a podcast from him as a focus in one of my school counseling classes at Lipscomb.

My mind keeps being drawn to a line or two from the podcast…

What makes you come alive?

What do you find yourself doing when you know that is what you were put on earth to do?

As long as I can remember I wanted to be a teacher. When I was a little girl I would arrange my parent’s basement family den into a classroom full of baby dolls, stuffed animals, and Barbies and Kens. I would take attendance, teach ABCs and 123s, and every now and then send someone to the principal’s office. The years just out of college were a dream come true as I had a real classroom of my own with real students ready to learn.

I fast forward through many moves with my husband, a few teaching positions, and then focusing on raising three incredible kids.  Now I find myself right back in the high school where I first started my teaching career. I love it. It is where I belong. But something is gnawing at me.

The student athletes that struggle to make the grades in order to stay on the field come and ask me for help. I am approached by another staff member to help with three seniors that cannot seem to pass chemistry. My planning period is frequented with knocks on my door followed by requests to talk through a problem. The boy that sits by himself at lunch. The girl that hides her pregnancy from her parents but everyone in the hallways know. The new student that does not quite fit in and can’t find a way. All these things call to my heart and demand my attention away from the classroom management, demands of grading, and details of lesson plans.

I want to know the students. I want to be a constant and safe place for them. I want to help them, whether it be in making decisions for their future, growing them academically, or focusing on their social and emotional health.  In becoming a school counselor I am convicted that I can fulfill the purpose I am being called to pursue.  

Do I have fears? Everyday! I am 45 years old. Many of my friends think I am crazy for starting a new chapter now. After all these years, can I really succeed as the student in the classroom??? Especially at the master’s level??? The doubt has led to fear and it has held me back so many times. I also worry that I will be unable to do it. Balancing responsibilities with my family, the demands of my current job, and my assignments and classes can be very stressful, sometimes overwhelming. Just this week as I waited for my youngest to get out of cheer practice, I paced the halls and my mind whirled with how I could fit it all in, not let anyone down, and get everything complete.

The encouragement of my family and a few friends seems to always lighten my load. I am thankful to have them walk beside me and cheer me on through it all. But honestly, there has only ever been one thing that has helped me maneuver through the worry, doubt, and fear. My pride has prompted me to push it aside and postpone it. Stubbornness and my need for control override it time and time again. But every time I relent into the quiet, solitude of prayer with my Father I find an escape from the chaos. The worry and panic that fear and doubt stir up disappear amid the conversations with Him. With the companionship of my family and friends I know I can succeed. The guidance of my advisors and professors will show me the way. But He will be the reason and answer for it all.  

 

2024: Week 3

The ground has been icy and white for almost a week. All the excitement that did exist from the closure of schools and the disruption of the regular has ceased. The kids want normalcy and their routine and freedom. If it was up to me, we would continue with the quiet and solitude. They, and their dad, are all I need. 

My nephew is a photographer. His creativity and eye for a good shot impresses me. I am a proud aunt. He spent the much of the week at home just like everyone else in the mid-state, but he did have his camera and lenses in hand. I am fascinated by his week’s work. 

                                              (Photo credit: Andrew Denning Photography)

When I was growing up I’d sit at a little yellow table in the basement of the house my parents made a home. I would fold pieces of white paper into squares and then snip and clip little designs. My unfolded masterpiece always provided hope of what I anticipated winter days would bring. 

As many times as I made my paper snowflakes, there wasn’t one that ever could compare to the Creator’s handiwork. I gaze at my nephews pictures and I find myself entranced, in awe, speechless. Words don’t do this intricate, carefully designed, God-breathed miracle justice. 

I am grateful for the pause this week. Last week I am honest but ashamed to admit that I wouldn’t have slowed enough to notice a tiny speck of His creation. I hopeful that next week and weeks from now I will remember this snowflake. Maybe if I keep its memory it will be a reminder to notice the marvels of His creation that fill my world. 

The trees that line our creek. The stars that are suspended in the night sky. The chipmunk that makes my back yard his playground. The students that try to blend in with the crowd and quietly shuffle down the hall. The calls that register with the names “momma” or “daddy” on the screen of my cell phone. The overlooked moments with my favorite four.

I want to always remember this snowflake, giving my life in thanksgiving to it's Creator everyday.  

2024: Week 2

It’s the second week of January. Christmas has come and gone. The New Year has rung. The decorations are stored until next November. 

I spoke to our FCA at school a week ago yesterday. Sometimes I spend much of the week preparing for these morning meetings. Other times I may give thought to what I want to share the night before. This time in the silence of my Friday morning driving by the creeks of Auburntown and over the hillsides of Statesville my mind rambled with what to share. 

Pulling into to the parking lot minutes before 7:10am, I jumped out of the Ford, swiped my badge, and power walked the hallways to the gym. Sweet but tired faces filled the room. The speakers usually stand. This morning I pulled a chair to the front, sat down, and took a breath.

I began to talk... 

This day, this Friday, was what some religous people think of as Epiphany...the visit of the Magi...otherwise know as the wisemen...I wonder if there were really just three? I digress.

They visited. They gave gifts. They didn't report back to Herod. 

Days before the shepherds had left their flock. They had witnessed something indescribable.They had seen angels and heard their chorus. They had run to the barn in humble Bethlehem. They had heard the cries. They had knelt before the King. 

We never hear anymore of the story of these wisemen and these shepherds. Scripture continues. But their story...for us it ends.

We anticipate December 25th. We celebrate His birth. We read Luke 2 and rejoice. We open the gifts and we eat lots of food. Our focus is on this Child that became a man and was the King of all Kings and became our Savior. Our focus is on Him. 

A week passes.

And then January 1st comes and it's a new year. It's time to make changes and resolutions. We plan a diet and buy a gym membership. We decide we need to spend more time self reflecting. We make promises to ourselves and speak of new habits and routines and changes. We focus on ourselves. 

What can I do better?

Why should January 1st or March 12th or August 8th or October 30th be any different than December 25th? 

He left Heaven. He became a baby, then a child, then an adolescent (bless Him) and finally a man. He walked this earth, humbly and lowly. He made strangers His friends, sinners His company, and outcasts His friends. Then He went to the cross and died. 

All for us. 

I bet the shepherds were never the same.  On January 1st I bet they could still hear the hallelujahs and see the glory. They were still excited about the cries and had the hope of the King's arrival. They probably didn't make resolutions and buy gym memberships. The wise men knew their focus. It was on Him. 

How can He make all things better?

2024: Week 1

The sounds of the ocean and the waves are the only things to hear. But there are so many things to which to listen. The things swirling in my head. The things that keep me up at night. The things that distract, monopolize the quiet, and tempt me to worry. 

During this year we are about to enter I will be working on my marriage for twenty three years. Many days 2001 seems but just seconds ago, and on others it seems like a repetitive roller coaster that has been going on for centuries. Tears, laughs, travel, kids, counseling, work, play, aging. All with the same man who said he needed to marry me. 

2024 will mark the twentieth year of my work as a mother. No greater joy has ever been given to me other than the joy given by the three kids. Each one has unique qualities and talents that inspire me, teach me, and challenge me. They never disappoint. My deepest regrets are ones that derive from my fear of disappointing them in my mistakes as their mother. 

This year I will continue working in public education. We may be overlooked and under appreciated, but I know we as educators have answered a high calling. I trust the 14 to 17 year olds I teach and coach with the expectancy I have for them to achieve great things. Those great things don’t necessarily mean the highest grades or the worlds take on the most decorated professions. I am speaking of kindness, love of others, humility…the basics of what education should be in a world where those things are hard to come by and have been cheapened. 

The work I have been at the longest is that of a daughter. This past year has been a challenge to watch my parents navigate through. In their mid-seventies, all one wants for their parents is peace, stability, comfort, and belonging…all the things they have provided for me and so many others throughout their lives. My mind swirls around ways to provide for and protect the two that have given me everything that is love and goodness. 

Perhaps my perspective needs to change. 

My work? I have been working? The work I have to do?

God, will you continue to work on me? My life, my marriage, my children, my profession, my parents, my roles and relationships…I lay it down before You. In the noise, in the chaos, in my attempt to control…I have forgotten to give things over to You. Forgive me. Renew me. Quiet my mind. Work on me.

Upside Down

This born and raised middle Tennessee girl graduated from college on May 13, 2000, ready to settle into a simple Southern life as a small town high school teacher. The next day I laid eyes on this really tall fella that had distinct and expressive eye brows and the happiest of brown eyes. A few months later I found myself agreeing to marry him and move 2000 miles away from home to a tiny five square mile island. Every plan was changed. My surroundings were totally different. Working with people from all over the world with different teaching styles and philosophies was more than challenging. All things seemed new, from shopping for groceries to driving a car and everything in between. And a new marriage...yeah, there was that too. 

My world was completely turned upside down. 

That wasn’t the last time things got shaken up. A few years later I was on fall break from teaching at a middle school in Missouri. I decided to run to the grocery and pick up my favorite frozen treat, mango sorbet. As I was about to check out I decided to pick up a little something else...a pregnancy test. I hadn’t been feeling the best and I just wanted to ease my mind. An hour later my sorbet was melting all over my couch as I tried to get my mind around being a mom. 

My world was turning upside down again for sure. 

Fast forward...an island and three kids later. I am a content and happy stay at home mom, working hard to make life happen for my family. Focusing on loving Saba was a big chunk of my time. I did non profit work and was active in service to my community in which we lived. But we faced the reality that our kids needed should have options as we began to look at their high school experiences. Long story short...five years later I find myself in a full time regular classroom again...this time teaching of all things Algebra, and coaching cross country and tennis. 

My world got completely turned upside down once again. 

In the moment these upside down changes seemed scary, sometimes irritating and uncomfortable, and even impossible. But in the flip side of the upside downs I so clearly can see the Father. All these things didn’t happen by chance. It wasn’t because of any decision I made or someone made for me. He was the reason for it all. He has shown me His love, given me the greatest gifts of human connection, taught me about grace, grown my faith, granted me the most outrageous joy, and taught me to be content with His plans even though I don’t understand them...because they simply are the best beyond any measure. 

We shouldn’t be surprised you know. He has been turning peoples worlds upside down from the beginning. He made a shepherd boy a king. He made a prostitute an ancestor to the Savior. He made outcasts his apostles. He gave the blind their sight. He let the unclean and sinful touch him. He took everything the religious deemed as important and shook it all up. 

He died. He was resurrected. 

And in that, he turned the entire world upside down. 

Hindsight is 2020

They say silence is golden.

If that’s the case, 2020 has been filled with lots of gold. At least from this blog.

It’s a couple of hours till midnight. Back in March if you had asked me if I had wanted the end of 2020 to come fast I would’ve said absolutely not. I don’t ever want to wish time away. 

But here we are 120 minutes before 2021, and I’m trying to find the words to describe what the last year has held. Eager to see its demise. 

With negativity all around, it’s easy to be negative. Its 2020...it’s been so easy to point out all the bad stuff about this year. But a little voice inside me is saying, "Hey, don’t do that anymore." The voice points me in a different direction, completely opposite pretty much of every other voice I’ve heard in the last 365 days.

So I start to ponder.

I got a new dishwasher.

That is the one and only thing I can come up with.

As those that love me the most know, I’m going to use one of my signature phrases.

That’s pitiful. 

A dish washer. That’s the best I can come up with???

Pitiful.

I mean seriously...a year of a virus...a complete shut down...a year of injustice...a year of nasty American politics...a year where so much has been taken away. Too much to even name. 

Of course, on spot a dishwasher is the best I got. 

As we end this year I am sitting watching a new series with two of the three kids. The Chosen. A series about Jesus. 

He laughs and makes jokes. My heart smiles big as I hear the kids chuckle. 

He has a soft spot for his mother. He makes fish appear for his friends and turns water into wine and then dances at a wedding. 

He calls a woman by her name and casts out all her demons. He tells a lame man to walk and rids shame from a provocative woman. 

And he takes time to talk with the little people. The ones everyone else ignores.

Where has he been in my 2020? 

He has been in the delight of my daughter’s eyes as the clock struck midnight 365 days ago a block away from Times Square. 

He was in the hearts of a group of college students as they prepared to love on Caribbean children on a five square mile island, not knowing what was waiting a few weeks away.

He was in the heart of my dear friend as she said goodbye to her mother. 

He was in the solitude of a quiet Caribbean beach. 

He was at a bus stop in Hell’s Gate.

He was in a ripe strawberry patch with my sister and my girls.

I saw Him in the wisdom of a friend as we walked our neighborhood and talked about life. 

He was in the excitement of an anxious bride as she prepared to become a wife. 

He was present at summer family dinners with two special friends. 

He was heard in the laughter that echoed through our home as we played games and found joy in our family of five. 

He was in the sunset as my I watched my parents walk side by side, knowing that is their favorite place to be.

He was in the excitement of the news of a baby to be welcomed. An honorary grandchild! 

He was in the eagerness of my freshman and the courage of my middle schooler. 

He ran alongside a cross country program as they completed an unexpected full season. Region champs and eighth in the state... icing on the cake. 

He was on the sidelines every Friday night with a Purple Tiger who wore number 53, never missing a game. 

He was in the half empty halls of high school and the chaos of an elementary school. 

He walked alongside a family as they began to question and wander exactly what He was calling them to do and where to go. He held their hands as they got comfortable with a new normal, in a newer circle. 

When you take away the busy...the completely full calendar...the detailed plans...He is there. Beautifully and wonderfully there in the simplicity of an unexpected but yet complicated year. He is there. 

I am thankful. 

Looking back on 2020...all we have really done is argued. 

The virus...real or not real. Masks...to wear or not to wear. Blue lives...black lives...all lives. Biden...Trump...or who. To vaccinate...or to not vaccinate. Traditional school...virtual school. 

And we all scream. Let’s all make sure our opinion is heard...our side is louder than the other. Let’s set the others straight. We are in the right...right?

Are you tired? 

I know I am. 

Let’s throw up the flag of surrender and admit none of us have it all figured out. 

The kids start a new episode. Jesus. He is full of grace and patience...we all should take pause and notice. He swam against the current. He found the silver lining even when there were storms. To every question and problem, He not only had an answer...He was the answer...He still remains the only answer. 

He didn’t scream. He didn’t argue. He didn’t write a post to prove a point. Conservative. Liberal. Moderate. I don’t think he used those terms. 

He just was and he just did. 

He was just love. 

In the next 365 days a lot will happen...some bad and some good. It may be better than 2020...but then again, it may not be. In all of it I just pray I i can see Him clearer and be more like Him than I did and was in the last 365 days. 

Goodbye 2020...hello 2021. 

Thank you, Jesus, for it all. Let us be more like you. Let us be love. 

Joy in Silence

I didn’t like myself yesterday. 

I complained. I was impatient with people I dearly love. Pessimism. Negativity. Self righteousness. Pride. They were my friends. 

And this morning in the hangover of a bad attitude, insecurities and self doubt are nagging at my joy. 

Finding joy is becoming a complicated process these days. Escaping the overly shared opinions, controversy, and the constant finger pointing and fighting is impossible.  Everyone gets offended by everything. Around every corner you find an expert. Yesterday around a corner or two you would have found me, the expert, and I am real sad about that. I miss the days where around most corners we just found friends. 

Is anyone else exhausted? Is anyone else having trouble with it all? Anyone else having trouble finding joy? 

So this morning, in the still before the three kids invade the silence and the smell of morning coffee, I am searching for joy. Simple, quiet, unnoticed joy. Something I can hold onto the rest of the day. 

It does not take long to realize I am probably not going to find it by the click of the remote or the touch of a phone screen. The refrigerator and pantry may have a few things that mask themselves as joy, but nothing that will last. The candle on the coffee table creates peace for a short while. But joy, where is it?

The airco cuts off just as the refrigerator stops running. Silence. Completely. 

The cicadas sing their song. Two birds conversate back and forth in the back yard. The sun hits the brick floor through the window blinds. 

Joy. Sent from the Creator. 

My voice breaks the silence and I begin to talk out loud to my Father. I lay my mess ups and insecurities from yesterday at His feet. I give thanksgiving for His truth...the ONLY absolute truth. Boy do I need the encouragement to only look to Him as the expert! I ask Him to help me with this. And I know He is listening and understands because He walked and lived in the mess, too. 

Open my eyes to only see You in the midst of the mess. The joy You bring is always there. It is I who decided to lose the focus. Silence the sting of stress and negativity that the enemy brings. Create and renew in me a joyful heart and spirit. 

Heal this world. Settle our hearts on You. Humble us. 

Thank you for being the Joy Giver. 

May we honor You as that, along with so much more. 

19

18. It speaks freedom and adulthood. It’s an even number, nice and neat. We celebrate it and look forward to it.

20.  A milestone. Two decades. It brings about a feeling of accomplishment and safety.

In between is an oddity. 19. It gets lost in the mix. It’s uncomfortable in the aftermath of the celebrated and forgotten in the shadow of the anticipated.

However, here we are. 19.

Nineteen years ago I naively expected the nineteen years ahead of us to be filled with nothing but joyous adventure and love. We have had joy and adventure and love. But the unexpected has become the foundation of a marriage that continues to evolve and change into something that goes beyond the juvenile definition of love.

Some have these mountain top moments of epiphany. They come to know the Father through intimate interactions; sudden and short moments that change them forever.

As I have found myself in long journeys in the valleys, I have longed for only the mountain tops.

That hasn’t been my story. It hasn’t been our story. Our relationship to each other, and so in my relationship with Him...yeah, we are in the midst of a novel, far from a short story.

Why has our 19 year marriage been so much different than I expected? Why have we had rough edges? Why have we had to learn to like each other even though we have had great love for each other? Why hasn’t it been as easy as I expected?

19. If it had been the expected, Jesus would have been just the character in the Bible story. I would never have seen Him as my human Messiah. If it had been what I thought it would be, grace would have been a thing I misunderstood instead of something I lived and freely accepted. If it had been everything I dreamed of, my husband would have been the lord of my life...instead I acknowledge God as both my Savior and my Lord. Because of the unexpected, I now understand that love is beautifully hard and ugly at times and is used to refine us into coming closer to another human so we can see and feel the relationship the Father intends for us to have with Him.

19. It hasn’t been about us. It’s been about Him. It has been beautiful and flawed and full of mercy and grace. For that reason I celebrate 19. I confidently say I am happy to celebrate it by your side.

Thank you, Michael for being my valleys, my mountain tops, and everything in between along my journey to know our Father more intimately. I hope I can be a reflection of His love for you as you have been for me for 19 more years to come...and then some.

A Rainy, Quarantined, and Imperfect Easter

The rain sprinkles my bedroom window and seems to be in harmony with the chimes that are singing in the breeze on the back porch.

That is a beautiful positive.

This has been the normal routine lately. Finding what I call a beautiful positive and focusing on that in the midst of all of this.

I don't have to go into great detail as to what "all of this" is. We all have experienced it to some degree in some way and some how. At the least we have been uncomfortable. At the worst we have been depressed. And between the two are a wide array of feelings and emotions and whatever else one wants to call the nasty.

I think it can all be summed up in one word though. 

Loss. 

For all of us it's the loss of normalcy, which in word can be cheapened, but it is loss all the same. And y'all...it's hard. For us adults it's not only hard but it's hard to explain to the ones we are raising and mentoring. It's hard to explain because of another loss...the loss of answers. We don't know the other end of the "what ifs...", but then again have we ever known and just now in this time it's becoming all too clear. 

Seniors have lost their final high school memories. Coaches and players have lost seasons. Some students have lost perhaps the only peace they know in the comfort of a teacher's care and a school's providence. 

Engaged couples have lost the excitement of celebrations and had to move their wedding dates. Families have lost travel plans and vacations for which they spent months planning and saving. Celebrations of life are now limited to gravesides for fifteen minutes, causing some to lose the chance to say goodbye.

Some have lost jobs. Some have lost financial security. Many have lost trust and confidence and doubt is creeping in. There are even some more than likely on the brink of losing sanity. 

And then of course many have lost their health and safety, and most tragically some have even lost life. There are no words. 

All of us have experienced loss in some way to some degree. There should be no comparison. Let's stop with the judgement. We all need to allow space for the loss of whatever it is to be grieved and the feelings that are there to be felt. Just like almost all things in life, everything concerning this time in our lives and history isn't black and white...there is so much grey.  

During my quiet and meditation time this weekend He keeps placing one thing repeatedly on my heart...

"Whatever you know to be true..."

Jesus. 

That is what is true. Really the only thing that is true.

I have been asking myself from the beginning of all this, what would He do? 

The other night I was social distance visiting outside with a couple of friends. Another friend joined us briefly and he mentioned I looked a bit tired and stressed. He took me by surprise when he reached out and hugged me. That is exactly what this extrovert who speaks love with physical touch needed. 

And I immediately thought, that is exactly what Jesus would do. 

Jesus would hug those that needed hugging without reservation. He was known for touching lepers and people who had some pretty nasty germs back in the day, you know. By the way, it wasn't socially acceptable either. I don't think He would be any different today.

But you know what else. Jesus would wear a mask, too. If that made someone feel loved and cared for, He'd wear a mask. He brought people down from trees and went to their houses so they would be comfortable. He met with people in the dead of night so they would feel safe. He went to bedsides and graves to heal and to raise. He even gave the promise of heaven to a trouble maker while they were dying on crosses. 

So what would He do? He would do what ever is needed to be done for those that He loves. He would give a hug or make a visit. He would wear a mask and practice social distancing. And He would do all the other things that fall somewhere between.

The rain continues to be a beautiful positive as it's now joined with the loud crashes of thunder and the flashes of lightning. We view today's weather in human eyes and think of this being such a sad and imperfect day to celebrate Easter. If the quarantines and isolation weren't enough, throw in the nasty weather and it's about as imperfect as you can get. 

But what if that Sunday morning so many many years ago was rainy and nasty, much like today. Would that have changed anything? No not at all. 

A beautiful sky, green grass, eggs and a bunny, and the fancy clothes...those things don't make for a perfect Easter. 

The only perfection ever needed is alive and well and continues to be the answer to all the unanswered questions, the hope for every doubt, and the love for everyone who has loss. 

Jesus.