Hot Take on Presidential Debate

Effective communication is 10% the message and 90% how it is communicated.  Maybe it’s just because I’m a sensitive soul but last night’s debate was anything but effective communication.

 

I (like the majority of Americans I suspect) know nothing about politics except what was fed to me by the movies and tv shows I watched. I know I was designed as a visual learner and understand things only through story.  I learned the majority about the presidential elections from the tv show Veep (which, I suspect, is not far from the truth).  The whole premise of political campaigning is that it doesn’t matter what you say but it matters HOW you say it.

 

Now some people on either side may think, “Haha that is it! That is the exact problem! My candidate isn’t a bad person. They just don’t know how to communicate effectively.”

 

The argument that they have prepared intensely for this moment in history aside, as a Christian, I think Jesus was pretty clear about what bad communication tells us.  In multiple passages he talks about it (most notably Matthew 23) but his words can be summed up in one verse: “Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks.”

 

I was thinking about effective communication this morning in the context of when I broke up with my boyfriend. He had miscommunicated something to me at the outset that I felt I asked him very clearly about. I felt extremely betrayed. Yet how he handled that and communicated with me about his actions spoke volumes to me about his character and how I would be treated down the line if I chose to be in relationship with him again.

 

A)        He apologized- he owned up to his mistake, sincerely said he was sorry, and explained how he would make amends and then DID by being honest with me from that point on.

B)        He was humble- He accepted his humanity in the situation and addressed every point I brought up that bothered me. This showed an intense amount of vulnerability.

C)        He was gentle- he empathized with my heart and over and over told me how he heard me and understood where I was coming from.

D)        He was firm- In my anger I started spewing assumptions at him about who he was based on his actions. Yet he didn’t allow me to besmear his character over this miscommunication.  He waited till he felt it was appropriate to do so and then told me gently how wrong he believed I was.

 

For me, I EXPECT this from the man who will pursue my heart. How can I expect less from my president?

Room to Heal

I have been thinking a lot about life and death lately.  I recognize this statement automatically exposes my privilege.  I don’t have to be afraid for my life because my entire community is steeped in gang culture.  I don’t have to think about the thousands of people rotting in prison. I don’t have to think about the two men recently executed by our federal government. I can put on any number of Netflix tv shows and drift off to sleep.

As you grow you learn things about the world. We are constantly in a state of reality check against our outdated fantasies. I remember I was in middle school maybe and my friends and I loved to watch the medical drama ER. My girlfriends and I were obsessed with pregnancy and babies since we first started playing “house” when we were little. (We had one game where all of our imaginary husbands were named the same name and we would call them and tell them we were pregnant and for our own amusement would get the wrong guy on the phone.) 

When watching ER I discovered for the first time the horrible truth that sometimes babies aren’t born healthy as I always imagined they were. I watched one episode and was horrified by the story of a mother having to deliver her dead child. My best friend and crush (we had “kissed dating goodbye” so never dated) was the eldest from a large and growing family and reassured me that that is rare. So I went about my life.

In the midst of exposing how black lives do not in fact matter in our nation, I have known multiple women who have miscarried. I do not think that is a coincidence. I see the connection so clearly.

Let me explain further. A number of people I have witnessed both personally and on social media express how they are so overwhelmed with their own personal trauma that they cannot bear the weight of another’s trauma. Furthermore, I’ve noticed in relationship how we can get so self-focused that we miss even our own partner’s pain. It got me thinking about the necessity to heal from trauma so that we can carry others.

My friend described to me that some miscarriages are both a physical and emotional process to heal.  She explained to me that she had to deliver her unborn child. She was thankful to be living in a country in Europe when this happened because they made the healing process so smooth.  She described to me the pristine room she was allowed to stay in at the hospital with a bed next to her for her husband.

As we spoke I was stunned by her genuine hope after all. She had processed a lot of her pain already. She was already talking about having another baby. She was already dreaming about life again. How could this be?

Now as I think about it I think that pristine room is an important metaphor for what all people who go through trauma need. They need a space to go through the process. With so much death and so much anger, are we providing spaces for people to heal? The dead and broken dreams simply have to be delivered. There’s no way around that. Can life indeed come after death?

I am thankful I have had people in my life who have let me cry, ask questions, and be real about my fear and pain. I haven’t personally experienced devastating loss as I know so many have. It has forced me to grapple with my own fears of that happening to me (which are statistically high at this point). I am constantly in a state of wondering: how can we support others better? How can we be a listening ear? How can we actually be a force of healing in the world?

The Lovers, the Dreamers, and Me

I have had the privilege of being close to two extremely creative people over the course of the last 3 years (one is the boy I have nannied and the other is my boyfriend). I have always found myself happiest around highly creative people. I am creative but have learned that often I sacrifice my creativity on the altar of expedited results.

One reason I’ve discovered that I do that is because I was not allowed as a child the important lesson of the process of trying and failing.  I always hated learning because I felt like I was going to fail. I was dyslexic and could not read until I was eleven. Both of my parents had a tendency to want to do things for me.  I noticed that for me to really understand things it took way too much time because I was far slower at understanding things than everyone else. I did work harder than everyone else on things that I truly cared about but at the same time things that were very hard I often gave up on.

In addition, as a performer I love the instant gratification of being able to perform something, no matter how great that piece of work is. There are things that I simply will not perform. Yet there are plenty of my own songs that I can pump out quickly and seamlessly without any crafting or thought.  As a songwriter instead of perfecting my songs I often just try to finish them as quickly as possible so that I can get out there to perform.

But these two creative people I know are not performers. They are more like inventors. Everything is a quest of discovery and it doesn’t matter the hours it takes or how many failures and start-overs they run into, they will not stop until they make something as beautiful to them as they can make it. I’ve watched both of them spend hours on something only to scrap it and start all over. I would be devastated by this. Yet I watch them deep dive into learning things because they know they will understand it better by the end.  I also see the joy they take in the process itself.

This creative process I am learning to surrender to is reminding me again of the importance of patience instead of leaning towards instant gratification. Creative pursuits cannot just be things we cross off our to do list. It is a part of me. It’s learning to trust my creative instinct and massage each pursuit into its full being.  I cannot simply achieve a creative pursuit like a goal.  It’s more like a relationship. It’s intentional yet it must happen organically when it’s ready to happen.

Perhaps this is why many of our generation are writing more cynical love songs. We have sacrificed deep, lasting relationships on the altar of instant gratification. I was listening to love songs from generations before mine and how caught up in a dream these people truly were. Have we lost our ability to dream?

I was reminded again of a time when I told a dear friend of mine that I had feelings for him. I had spent years blowing the whole thing out of proportion in my mind, imagining the feelings were mutual when they were not. I was embarrassed and told him so. He responded that it wasn’t a bad thing but that it instead showed my ability to dream.

I held onto that encouragement. I think the ability to dream is crucial to everything in life and I think it’s what sustains us in the process. We can be patient believing that something good will come out of everything we try. Even supposed failures are merely places of learning and growth that will tune our creative ear to the sounds that we need to hear. I hope in this season I can learn to dream and lean into the process of creation and even if it takes days, weeks, months, or years I will develop a patient heart that is ever creating new worlds.

Death and Resurrection

It came to me as clear as day. It felt like a sudden discordant sound amidst the glory and praise of Resurrection Sunday.  I had been in the glory of the Lord all morning, pouring over my Bible and then in church Livestream, and when it ended I left worship on and just kept going.

            It started with the sound of a siren. As the death toll from Covid-19 is high in New York City, I have begun to associate sirens with death.  As I heard it I realized how there are two kingdoms at war with one another. No wonder there’s such a stark contrast. Jesus overcame death and yet people seem to be dying all around me.

            As I heard the sound of the siren though I was reminded of a story I was told about death and resurrection. In fact, it dawned on me that I have heard many stories about death and resurrection- not just Jesus’ story. This story was actually from Deena Van’t Hul, founder of Hidden Treasures, an orphanage ministry in China.

            I am afraid I will butcher it terribly but I hope what struck me about it will strike you.  This woman had told us stories of praying for disabled babies who died and watching them come back to life. Then she told us a story of a baby who was not resurrected. She walked us through the grief and anger she experienced at God. Then she told us with tears in her eyes of hearing sirens and knowing that another of their children had died and hearing God tell her to pray for life.  She told us this story as a warning. She remembered that in the moment God asked her to pray for life she turned away, bitter and angry and chose not to pray. The regret of this moment haunted her.

            I was reminded of this moment because of what I believe this mother heart of hers was trying to convey.  God may not choose to resurrect something. He is no stranger to grief. Yet he always gives us a choice to believe again in the midst of our pain, in the midst of our suffering. He always gives us the opportunity to enter into the power of the resurrection even in the midst of the grave.

            This is what struck me all at once as I listened to that siren. I do not believe it was an accident that my mind suddenly remembered a missionary who has given her life to China in service.  God’s purposes over China and the world have always been and always will be resurrection. So today as I continue to weep with those who weep I will choose to believe and pray for resurrection life.

https://loavesandfishesintl.com/

Inviting Joy

I’m used to hearing the sound of police sirens at night. But the constant peel of ambulance sirens is another unsettling reminder that I am living in a Pandemic.  In the midst of this present darkness and sitting in my own gloominess about life, I said this out loud, “Joy, I invite you into the room.”  Though I didn’t notice it much when it arrived, it was there nonetheless.

I like to listen to the radio show “This American Life.” They aired an episode that I listened to a few weeks ago about joy. In the episode they interviewed an author who spent a year noticing and recording what brought him joy. It struck him how simple those things could be and also that the more he paid attention to joy the more he experienced it. 

            One day I recorded in my journal an my attempt at noticing glimmers of joy.  I realize often, especially in times of sadness, it’s nearly impossible to notice joy.  I journal entry right after something happens is usually the closest we will get to experiencing joy in the sadness. Yet I believe the effort will eventually produce joy in the midst, no matter how simple it is.  Here is the journal entry:

            It’s a curious thing beginning to find joy sprouting up in the midst of physically feeling unwell. I by no means have found the secret. Let’s be clear also, I am not jumping in a river of it as happiness and pleasure often make joy out to be. No, joy mostly accompanies the suffering if they look for it closely.

            Being physically sick for nearly a month does something to your psyche.  The mantra “This too shall pass” begins to feel untrue. Resentment creeps in unaware.

            Today was like any other day. I woke up, ate breakfast, took a shower, put on make-up, and attended my acting class through Zoom.  In class, my teacher hurt my feelings.  She rebuked me for not studying the scene better and I felt totally humiliated. 

I was holding it together until one of my classmates who knows me texted me asking how I was feeling. He reminded me that my teacher does that because she believes in me not because she thinks I’m stupid. Then he offered to be there if I needed to chat.  The gesture forced me into admitting how I felt and (thankfully muted and off video) I spent the rest of class in a puddle of tears. After I did call my classmate and he consoled me some more.

Next I physically rested. My head hurt so I pulled a blanket over my head, put earplugs in, and concentrated on my breathing.  I realized I spend so much time physically balled up from pain and from stress. I found myself totally not on purpose visualizing a cat comfortably asleep.

Finally I ate, texted some friends, cut a pineapple, and at that point my self pity was almost totally diminished.  Though my head still hurt I had determined next to complete a relatively simple to-do list.  Just as I was about to begin an idea occurred to me and the idea brought me joy. I’m always reading self-help books which is probably one reason I don’t read very much.  But I just finished a spiritual formation book so I got excited thinking of the stories I was suddenly interested in reading.

I wrote this in my journal (maybe I knew at this point that I was going to share this with you all), “So the question remains: why I am I more joyful than this morning? My circumstances have not changed in the slightest. I’m still quarantined at home with a splitting headache, still fairly confined to my bed from exhaustion. What changed?”

Release

…or grieving, or processing through, or letting my feelings out needed to occur.  One of the paramount things I have learned from my acting class (and really over the last 7 years) is to have my feelings about things. We are taught growing up to avoid expressing emotion in order to survive.  As a result we often bottle it up, judge ourselves for it, rationalize out of it, avoid it, or apologize for it. These actions don’t change the feeling, it just moves it elsewhere and it causes more pain.

When I was encouraged by my classmate that it was ok to be upset even though it wasn’t true what I was believing, I was able to release the pain of not only being hurt by my teacher but also probably a lot of other pain I’d been feeling in my sickness and alone state.

Being Seen

I struggled with the idea of putting this one in here because it isn’t exactly active. When my classmate texted me I hadn’t had much connection to the outside world. I had been on long social media detox and I felt extremely isolated from others.  Sometimes it just takes that one person to reach out for you to feel totally seen. I will say the active reverse of this is whether or not someone reached out to me, the truth remains that anyone feeling seen brings joy. Therefore, in hindsight I could’ve reached out to others and would have probably made them feel seen as well as myself.

Self Care

I actually do hate how this term is thrown around (maybe one reason for that is because I do not like to take care of myself).  Napping was the best thing I could do for myself when I wasn’t feeling well. I have found being sick that sleeping is the best thing I can do and often when I’m not sick and I’m emotional I just need to sleep. Caring for your own body, soul, and spirit is the most joy producing thing one can do. (Writing this now I'd like to add how I really do like cats so if visualizing cats brings you joy, it ain't a bad idea either.)

A Joyful Routine

I enjoy crossing things off a to-do list.  For me it’s also about working towards something.  For instance, the menial tasks of finishing an art project are far less exciting than the beginning inspiration. Realizing that in the end I will complete something beautiful brings me joy.

Something New

It actually brought me joy to walk to my living room and pick out the books I want to read, stack them in the order of completion and carry them to my bedside. The thought is that if I put them there when I’m feeling sad or bored I will feel encouraged to read by their immediate accessibility.

The idea to put the books next to me by my bed totally caught me by surprise.  Nothing in life is exactly as it always is. Ask the question, “What’s different about today?”

This may seem like a trite post in a time of loss and tragedy. Being sick certainly has not been easy. But I wanted to invite joy in the room. Now I’m finding Joy’s comfortably nestled next to me as I write, reminding me I really enjoy writing blogs.

We can Learn a lot from Prisoners

When I was at Rikers Island working one on one writing plays with inmates, I learned a lot from them (probably more than they learned from me honestly).  In the midst of the Corona virus nightmare I find myself thinking a lot about these guys, mainly because to the average white American the concept of being locked away from the world is totally foreign. To these guys, it’s their everyday reality. We complain when our favorite coffee shop is closed. They don’t have access to Starbucks.  Our reaction to being cooped up not only shows our propensity for not being able to sit still but it also reveals our privilege.

I previously posted on the need for wisdom in this time of crisis. I talked about taking a long look at ourselves and seeing which category we fall into and using this time well. I wanted to follow that post up with the some practical advice on how to use our time well from another angle.  Who are better experts on confinement than some of the 52,399 prisoners currently serving time or held in detention awaiting trial in New York State?

1. Make use of your time

The prisoners I see thriving in Rikers are the ones who make use of their time locked away from the outside world.  The ones I meet are actively researching and working on their own cases. They often have a strict physical regimen for themselves. They often have jobs at the jail where they make money. They often participate in social service programs. They participate in my programming. They envision their future and take time to create in order to get there.

2. How you make use of your time can sometimes feel arbitrary

Waking up on time every day and brushing your teeth can sometimes seem silly when no one is coming to see you.  But these men I’ve worked with do it because they know it’s important in the long run. They work on their cases. They have to be nice to people they don’t want to be nice to (i.e. turn the other cheek when an officer or inmate provokes them). Their goal is getting out and often the tasks put in front of them feel totally arbitrary to their overall purpose or even how they feel in the moment. But they do it anyway.

3. How you make use of your time should also bring you joy

The people I met thriving inside also lived from a place of purpose. The creative ones that I worked with made sure they created and it brought them joy. I once had someone in my group who told me what we were doing was stupid and he didn’t want to do it. I told him he didn’t have to.  He interestingly stayed there because he wanted everyone to know what he thought. I wondered afterwards if he actually did enjoy the work we were doing on some level because he stayed. 

The ones that didn’t want to create who I interacted with spent time reading. They were interested in religion and the way other people thought.  They chose to engage with different views because it connected them to the world.  They recognized they wanted their minds to be active and it brought them joy.

4. How you make use of your time should be affecting others for the good

I watched one creative group being used for good and for evil in this way.  This was the group that actively wanted to create but only if one of the guys they didn’t like wasn’t present. When he was present, they used their creativity to bully him.

I found people who were deeply hurting in jail thriving because they were taking the time to really think about how their choices were affecting other people. These were the people who reached out and created camaraderie in groups. These were the people who called other people out on poor treatment of others. These people I noticed were very open and vulnerable about their own failures and willing to own up to everything. They had come to terms with themselves and now wanted to advocate for others.

Now I know we are not isolated by choice and we don't know how long it will last, yet we can choose how we want to respond to it.  I see that the way the inmates at Rikers use their time is wise and we can benefit from their wisdom.  Whether you are working or not working or handling the messiness of juggling other humans living around you, accept the seemingly simple and arbitrary tasks of the day. Make the ordinary magical by bringing yourself joy in new ways.  Explore your creativity. Perhaps paint, draw, write. Make sure you are stewarding joy.  Finally, do what these inmates taught me: reach out and connect to other people who need your empathy.  Find away to help others. I am truly grateful to my friends being held in detention for showing me how to walk this path with so much dignity and grace.

This Calls for Wisdom

Most of us are familiar with the 7 stages grief that ultimately ends in acceptance and hope. I’ll summarize them in 2 stages: the “shit” stage and the “what now?” stage. The shit stage for many of our existence involves or is related to the shutdown of the world because of the Coronavirus. This leaves us with this new normal of restricted access to people and a lot of time on our hands.  If you haven’t gotten past the shit stage of the Coronavirus, perhaps you’re not ready for the following post.

Some of us don’t like being benched and some of us like being benched a little too much.  Those of us who don’t like being benched are doers. We like to help and feel helpless when we are not being put to use. Sometimes people in this category are told about the practical importance of rest but often minimize our own need for it until we are so burnt out we can’t handle ourselves.

Those of us who like being benched too much I suspect are of the personality type of intuitive or creative (and obviously aren’t concerned about practical things like job security either). We find the most joy in our inner worlds: imagining, creating, and even relating to some Divine source. Our inner thought lives provide the needed entertainment. Books, music, or movies can supplement them. But we really enjoy just listening to ourselves sometimes.

Let me just say I already feel like this is an oversimplification and a rudimentary categorization but it is purposeful.  I suspect that humans in general go back and forth between the two a lot.  This is purely based on my own experience, of course.  When I’m working and take a vacation I have a really hard time relaxing at first and want to do a million things though I know I’m going to need and love the relaxation more than the doing in the long run.

My point is that sometimes we are aware and sometimes we are not aware but there is a way in which we can miss out on our purpose if we fall too much to one side.  One reason I believe this to be true is that I have noticed in general I do not like to do things, like good and important things, because I am afraid of failure.  When the option of not having to try is presented to me, I am instantly relieved. No one to fail, nothing to fail at? Perfect.

For myself, I am really enjoying my time of solitude. I can literally spend all day reading my Bible and communing with God through song. I leave my window open and listen to the birds. I am writing to you now and wrote to you in the previous blog about resting like me. I also have admittedly been fasting social media and to me looking at the news is a chore. One more thing to worry about? No, thanks, I’ll take my comfy bed and cup of chai and conversations with my creator instead.

To be a Christian in my circle, this would win me a badge of honor.  We proudly talk about how its better to be a Mary sitting at the feet of Jesus listening to him than to be a Martha running around doing lots of arbitrary things. We say fear is evil and therefore we shut out the world and gaze upon the eyes of our loving Jesus. (Again, this is an oversimplified version of a Christian worldview.)

The writer of the Psalms in the Bible, David, I think was like me. He could spend hours on the grass just lying around and playing music and enjoying the sweetness of God.  Preachers even talk about this as being the reason he walked so closely with God and led a nation to worship God day and night.

Yet how could he be a king later if all he knew how to do was lie around and play songs?  I think that’s why God gave him the task of being a shepherd.  He was training him.  He needed wisdom to govern and he could only acquire that wisdom through tasks that seemed (probably to him) totally arbitrary to what he felt like doing.

I think like David our ultimate purpose is dominion. Perhaps we not are called to be a king or even work in government. Yet if we are creative we are not just supposed to be musicians. We are not just supposed to be actors. Our primary calling as humans can be found in Genesis 1:28 “Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth and subdue it and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the heavens and over every living thing that moves on the earth.”  We are not unlike David after all.

This calls for wisdom. How are we to do this if we are just lying around in our fantasyland?  Solomon is the Biblical character who asked God for wisdom and God granted it to him.  He wrote these words: “For the simple are killed by their turning away, and the complacency of fools destroys them” (Proverbs 1:32).  In times of crisis the call is to be wise and act.

“Show me your faith apart from your works and I will show you my faith by my works…For as the body apart from the spirit is dead, so also faith apart from works is dead” (James 2:18b, 26).  Let’s use our time wisely by discerning what it is that we need to be doing in this hour and do it.

Coronavirus Isolation, Boyfriend, and God

My window is cracked open to let the outside world in as I start my second week of self-quarantine, as I am sick during the corona virus pandemic.  I hear church bells ping and birds chirping and the soft patter of rain. It’s a welcome reprieve from the inside noises I am used to experiencing since my landlord painted my room and I couldn’t get my window open. Thankfully it is now open and the world around me calms and quiets me into my thoughts.

I’m aware that words on a paper, though not physical, are memorials of a time. I want to look back and remember this forced time of solitude, termed “shelter in place” by the government, and how it brought out so many new dimensions of our inner lives that we weren’t even aware of. I knew going into this New Yorkers at least would be overwhelmed that they can’t do anything and therefore the quiet would force them to recognize the climate of their inner being. I am no exception.

I am nearly 7 months into a relationship and it’s been nearly a year since we met.  We are both busy New Yorkers. He works a full time job and I have many social, artistic, and religious volunteer commitments aside from my part time job.  The normalcy of our relationship up to this point was not seeing each other all week and then sharing extremely passionate weekends before going back to our daily lives.

Last Monday I started to not feel well.  He had taken off work and I was hoping to spend the day with him, instead I spent it in bed alone. This marked the beginning of a shift in the routines of our relationship that would continue as it continued on a grander level throughout the world. Nothing was normal anymore.

He wasn’t working. I wasn’t working. But we weren’t in physical contact.  We were at our separate apartments talking throughout the day everyday over text, phone call, and Facetime video chat. It seemed so strange to me to be totally physically cut off from him while at the same time having complete access to hearing his voice and knowing what he was doing every second.

I grew restless and frustrated and wanted the comfort of being physically held by him. Saturday night he called me and things weren’t dandy. I was suddenly so insecure. The conversation was disjointed. He was doing a million things. I felt like I wanted to be the center of attention but at the same time had completely run out of things to say. This new way of communicating was bringing up so many new insecurities I didn’t know I had. I was suddenly at a loss for how to communicate that.

Alone in my room that night after he had dropped off to sleep I cried and wrote in my journal wondering what was wrong with me.  I started painting this picture in my mind of who I am to my boyfriend, how I think he sees me.  In my mind I was crazy, emotional, dramatic, too young, and far too virginal.

Well, I may have gotten dramatic right based on how this evening alone went and I practically did go crazy berating myself for not being the kind of person he would want to be with.  But when I told him how I felt essentially asking “who am I to you?” I was met with so much love, so much tenderness. He likes me. He actually likes me.

This new normal in our relationship got me thinking about how God relates to us.  I realize his grace in this whole situation, using it to actually draw my boyfriend and I closer together. God actually told me as I dropped off to sleep that night, “This is my mercy for you. You are learning emotional intimacy without physical intimacy.”

First, this longing for physical closeness that I feel is like the longing we have for union with God and his longing for us. Remember, God used to walk with Adam in the cool of the day.  Now God is in Heaven and we are on earth separated by this tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Christ’s death has given us access to God, but no one has seen his face. Our way of relating to him is internal and emotional.  Our ultimate longing will be fulfilled when we are married to him in Heaven.  What will it look like to be chilling with God in the Heavenly places, having dominion over the earth?  We can only imagine.  God longs for total union and that should be our longing as well.

Secondly, this separation is going to bring up insecurities in our hearts.  We are not doing anything. We tend to put our identities in what we do for the world.  In situations of crisis, especially disease and death, we are forced to recognize how not in control we actually are.  For humans, this can be terrifying. We go down dark rabbit holes in our minds. In these moments of crisis we can either reject God or run towards him. We can assume, as I did with my boyfriend, “he doesn’t care about me.” Or we can ask, “Who am I to you? Who are you to me?”

I have felt since before we were all physically isolated that God would use this for his good. He is drawing us to himself. He wants to meet us on a deep, individual, emotional level. He wants us to learn to develop emotional intimacy with him.