May 18, 2014 |
A few days ago someone mentioned to me how someone else had hurt her. “Can you believe she says she’s a Christian?!” She said the word like it was sewage.
I immediately asked if she thinks being a Christian means being perfect? Let me tell you, right here, right now: It. Does. Not.
Standing up for Christianity is a complicated matter. I have seen how churches alienate people. I understand the hurt when a Christian points fingers or falls short of that goal line. I’ve been there, I’ve done that. I’ve been both on the receiving and the giving end of this dynamic.
I recently had a very heart-to-heart with someone who doesn’t see God the way I do. Someone who isn’t sure that God can be that personal. Someone who is okay getting through life without a personal relationship with God. Someone who has been alienated by others claiming to be Godly.
So, do I alienate this person, just because their belief doesn’t match up with mine?
I don’t have the words to express how hurtful it is to see people judge Christians based solely on the fact that we say, “I love God.” Are there Christians out there who aren’t perfect? Always.
So here’s my soapbox. I’m just gonna type this out and hope it makes sense to everyone who reads it. Ready?
My Christianity isn’t about saying I’m better. It isn’t about me being perfect, because I’m not. Because I never will be. I fall short every.stinking.day and I’m not ashamed to admit that. I don’t wallow in self-pity, I don’t proclaim my failings from the highest hilltop just to manipulate others into telling me I’m not that bad. Nor do I tell others they’re not that good.
We are all people. We are designed to love and care for one another, and to bring each other closer to goodness. Let’s be real for a minute. Which feels better: being selfish or selfless? Of course it’s nice to have attention drawn to ourselves. I’m crazy about getting the “Thinking of you” texts or the “How are you?” phone calls. But there’s something so fulfilling about truly helping someone else out.
I’m not talking about those people my Pam-Mom refers to as “virtue suckers”. Those are the ones who are always asking for help when what they really only want is attention. The ones who complain without trying to make things better.
I’m talking about really helping people who want it. I don’t want my people to feel obligated to sit by me at church or call me at night. I want them there because they want to be there. I want my people to let me feed them, hug them, help them. I want them to see God in everything I say and do. And when I fail, because I have, I do, I will, fail . . . I want them to forgive me and not judge me.
I could never tell someone their life stinks because they don’t have God. Heck, my life stinks sometimes and I do have God! Who am I to judge what’s in a person’s heart?
There are people who God will warn me to stay away from. But those are few and far between. Christ ate with sinners, prostitutes and tax collectors. If I’m to be Christ-like, who am I to say I’m not the sinner?
And it really hurts me when people assume that just because I’m Christian, I’m supposed to be without faults. It burdens me to hear someone call out a Christian just because he or she lost their temper or had a bad day.
It bothers me when my Christian friends try to proselytize my people, without knowing my people. I don’t live in a bubble. I know others are as imperfect as I am. I’m okay with that because I believe we’re all called to love one another, not judge each other. It’s a two-way street. If I stop talking to BB because he believes in Buddha, what kind of Christian does that make me? If I say I’m not perfect but I expect you to be, what kind of friend does that make me? If I see someone in pain and say “You brought this on yourself!” instead of “How can I help?”, what kind of human does that make me? Not a good one.
I’m currently in a relationship with a guy who isn’t sure where he stands with God. And I’m okay with that. Why? Because he (My Complicated) is open to me praying for and about us. About our relationship, about him, about any- and everything I feel led to pray about. Do I wish he could come to church with me each week? Absolutely. Am I going to stop seeing him because he can’t? Not yet. Do I feel a bit oxymoronic for falling for a guy like him? Not at all. Because he’s a really great guy. And because God is calling him. He just doesn’t know it yet.
We have one commitment between us. Don’t Leave. Period. It’s that simple. If we disagree, we can take time out to calm down and think. We can hang up the phone and breathe. We can walk away. But we have to come back. We can’t leave. Not until it’s worked out.
That doesn’t mean everything is always perfect. I don’t know what kind of happy ending this will have. But I know he’ll fight for me.
And I do know that God says the same thing.
Don’t Leave. Period.
So no matter how imperfect I am, no matter how difficult my friends, family, and My Complicated can be, I’m not leaving God.
He’s never left me. He fights for me every day.
Being Christian isn’t about being perfect. It’s about not being alone. Ever.
It’s about those dark quiet nights when no one’s holding my hand. It’s about going to the grocery store by myself. It’s about celebrating with dinner for one (two if Dot is home). It’s about doing all these things alone, but not being alone.
Being Christian is about sharing my life with God, and knowing that He’s doing what He can to share His with me. He’s asking me to just not leave Him.
Does being Christian make me perfect? No. But I strive to attain the best imperfection I can for Him. Does it mean judging others? Not without pointing fingers right back at me. Does it mean abandoning those who I treasure, adore, love? Never.
Will I get in your face and tell you, you need God? Always. Why? Because I know God. And He wants to know you. Because God is supernatural and able to manage my life in ways that I can’t. Because God loves us all even when we don’t love ourselves. Because I can’t see inside you. I can only know the parts of you that you share with me. And I don’t know what conversations you’re having with God. It’s mean and cruel of me to assume that anyone doesn’t know God. I can tell you what I feel in my heart when we talk. But I can’t tell you if you’re in His arms or not. No. That’s not true. I can tell you, every single one of us is in His arms. I just can’t tell who’s fighting Him and who’s enjoying His comfort. And I will never make that judgment call.
As I’m writing this, I know deep inside that someone is reading it with that first glimmer of faith and hope. Whoever you are, please know that I am praying for you. Please know that I want to dance with you on streets of gold. And until we get there, while we are still here, I love you with an imperfect love. You may be a stranger to me. That’s okay. Reach out to someone who can be there for you. Pray. Pray with a friend, a family member, or even a stranger.
Don’t be afraid of the label of Christianity. Don’t think you can’t measure up. Don’t worry about being judged. Don’t think wherever you are in life that you can’t reach out. Don’t worry about others. Just give it your all.
And just know that God has made this promise to you.
Don’t Leave. Period.
He never promised peace and fulfillment. Rather, He warned us that just the opposite would happen. That people will hate Christians for no reason other than being Christian. It is not easy. But it’s definitely better.
Years ago God gave me a choice to keep a friend, or turn that friend over to God. As painful as it was to walk away, I opened my hands and released this person to God. God told me the process would be long and painful. And it was. To have to say no to my friend. To have to walk away and let God step up. But the result is beautiful. My friend is now married with children. Living a very successful life, and a very Godly life.
It’s so possible to be completely fulfilled with God. It really is. Your dreams are rarely His dreams, but as you draw closer to Him, he will change your heart so that your desires are for Him and His will.
I promise it’s worth it. And I promise He will never leave you or forsake you.
Whoever you are, I’m praying for you. So hang in there.
Don’t Leave. Period.
And Frankly, My Dear . . . that’s all she wrote!
You may also enjoy reading:
It’s Complicated, Part One: My Relationship
The First Step
P.U.S.H.
Dear God, Did You Forget About Me?!
May 17, 2014 |
Last week on my personal Facebook profile, I changed my relationship from “single” to “it’s complicated”.
It’s Complicated.
No photos. No names. I’m not one to spill intimate details. I like to protect the privacy of the people who choose to expose themselves to a writer’s life ~ this writer’s life.The family I’m born into and gave birth to don’t have much say on the matter. But the ones who have a choice . . . those are the ones I admire. The ones who are strong enough to stick around when the word goes to print. The ones who don’t unfriend me on Facebook because they see the struggle between who I am and who I want to be, and the dichotomy between my very personal and sometimes public life.
Last week, my two worlds collided in a very unexpected manner. An old friend came to town. We went out. And then he said it. It. Those three little words that every woman loves to hear from the man she wants to want her in return.
Complicated? I’ll say so. There are many dynamics [read: hurdles] we would have to conquer to make a relationship work. Those are the private moments. But we’re talking. We’re sharing. We’re growing closer. That’s the public life.
He’s not perfect. [He had the nerve to ask “Why Toronto?” when discussing travel destinations.] He doesn’t drink coffee as much as I do. [That’s okay, I’ll have his share.] But he likes cats. He encourages my writing. And he’s taller than me. [Yes, mother, when I’m 5’8″, a man who can tower over me is a nice thing!]
I’m not perfect. I cry too much. I told him I hated him for holding my hand. I told him I was going to write every flaw and fight for dramatic content, of course. I drink his coffee and eat his chocolate. I order before he looks at the menu. But he likes me anyway.
It’s too soon to know if I’m blessed with this man or if we’ll end up hurting each other. I do know we’ve been friends for such a ridiculously long time it would be impossible to leave him completely. Right now, our complicated promise is only this:
Don’t Leave. Period.
The rest we’ll either figure out or we won’t. We’re not in a rush to make it work or find out it won’t. For This Girl, who thrives on stability and steadiness, this uncertainty is new. I’m used to being alone, solitary, not asking for help with decision making or planning someone else’s social schedule. This is familiarly new to me.
Is he a good catch? I think so. I’ve always thought so. Except for those in-between times when we’ve danced around each other’s lives with someone else. Except for those in-between years when we forgot we liked each other. After all this time, we are in the same place at the same time. And it’s complicated. Because it’s not.
It’s a little terrifying. A lot satisfying. And pretty much the reason I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in a week.
I want to make sure I’m not using him for his attentions. Let’s face it–who doesn’t love some nice “You look good” and “Have a chocolate” stuff. He deserves more than me just wanting his attentions. He deserves me wanting him completely, as he says, “warts and all”.
And so I’m praying. I’m praying for clarity and direction and all the things a person prays about in a relationship. I’m praying to be able to keep God first not just in this, but in every relationship. I desire God to be above all else in my household. I crave a man who is so in love with the Lord that he forgets I’m in the room.
It’s so complicated. I don’t want a guy to replace God as my Head of Household.
And in the quiet of the late night, when the rest of the world is gone and asleep and I’m left alone after hanging up the phone and My Complicated is far away, I hear God saying, “I’m still here.”
That folks, is what we in the writing world call “the hook” or “the cliffhanger”. Come back tomorrow for the rest of the story.
And Frankly, My Dear . . . That’s all she wrote!
You may also enjoy reading:
Apologetic
I’m Afraid of My Own Succcess
Mar 26, 2014 |
Thanksgiving Table
This is a photo of the first Thanksgiving dinner I ever hosted. It was my first “on my own” holiday. After not completing college and living at home until Dot was nearly four years old, it was time to move out.
It was tough. I was working full-time and being a single parent of a young child had its moments. I often felt like I was failing. The budget rarely balanced. The apartment wasn’t always clean.
But we had love.
Isn’t that what people say? “We may be poor, but we’re rich in love.” That was, and continues to be, true.
I wanted to show off my home skills. And since my brothers couldn’t make it to town for the Big Feast, I let Mom know I wanted to host it.
I didn’t know how I’d manage to afford all this food. I wasn’t sure my time management skills were up to the task. But I prayed. A lot. Alot-alot-alot. And through His blessings and the generosity of others, not to mention several found pennies (and then some!), this entire feast cost me only $0.76.
That’s not a typo. Mom provided two side dishes and dessert. I managed to barter, coupon shop, and was gifted nearly everything else.
But I wanted a candle. Hence the seventy-six cents.
I keep a copy of this photo on my refrigerator. Every time I go into my kitchen and wonder what I will eat, or what I’ll feed Dot, I see this photo. And I’m reminded that He feeds even the smallest sparrows. Sometimes I don’t feel like cooking. Sometimes I don’t think I have enough to cook. You know what? It doesn’t matter. We’ve never gone hungry.
The reason I’m writing this post in March instead of November, is because I recently turned from mourning to dancing. I began to write again. I began to pray differently. I began to trust again. I began to trust Him again. And I began to thank Him.
This past month I started to reorganize my writing. The To-Do’s, the location, the means, the ends. I have a game plan and outlines.
Can you imagine my surprise when I found the feast photo amidst my notes? Especially since the refrigerator copy is still on the refrigerator! How did this extra copy find its way from some unknown storage into the few papers that are held in my new desk drawer?
Writing Sanctuary
I don’t know. I honestly don’t know. I vaguely remember having a second copy tucked into an unused older Bible. But that Bible has been boxed away for years.
And this photo reappeared just when I rediscovered my Writing Muse.
So there’s an intimidating sense of obligation to keep writing. A sense of, “Atta girl!” and “I’m pullin’ for ya!” A definite sense of “Yes, you can do it!” And a huge sense that I’m doing the right thing.
I don’t think Thanksgiving should be relegated to one day or even one month. Thanksgiving isn’t an event. It’s a way of life. It’s the chance to stand up and let the world know you’re glad to be alive.
And I’m definitely glad to be alive. Glad to have the life I have. Glad to be encouraged as a Mom. A daughter. A cook. A writer. And yes, a Christian.
Glad to know I’m not as alone as I sometimes feel.
There’s sense of security when you know your Daddy is there, taking care of you. You might not see Him behind you, but He’s there. You might not hear Him whispering to those around you, but He’s speaking through you. You might not even realize His presence. That’s okay. He’s still there.
And because He is, I am.
And I’m just so very thankful.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
You may also enjoy reading:
Apologetic
A Good Name
Dear God, Did You Forget About Me?!
“Be Not Afraid”. Yes, I’m talking to YOU.
Feb 9, 2014 |
I’m single. Does that make February a hard month for me? Not at all. Being single doesn’t mean I’m lonely. I have a full time job that I absolutely love. I have family that lives nearby and an adult daughter who lives at home while navigating through her own busy albeit single life. We have our individual and collective social lives.
Don’t feel sorry for me, for us.
We’re not that lonely.
We play games together. I write. She bowls. We cook, clean, run errands together. We spend time apart. She bowls. I do coffee. We’re very busy.
So we’re not that lonely.
Mind you, I often think it would be nice to have someone taller and stronger around to handle things like cutting down the trees that are still standing or bagging up the endless piles of leaves they leave. Someone to pay the dinner bill once in a while. Someone to replace the light bulb. Carry the grocery bags. Someone to share life with. But I don’t go to bed alone and cry about it. I just don’t.
A few weeks ago, I found myself in a local store. Not finding what I needed, a worker offered to search storage for me. Sure enough, he returned with the goods. We chatted a bit. It was nice. He was nice.
A few days later and I returned to the store. We struck up another conversation. He was very easy to speak with. Attractive. And that second most important factor: age appropriate.
The conversation went well, but I had a nudging feeling. Something not quite right. I called him on it. He’d said he was divorced but his finger was shaped as if a ring had just been removed. Then he said he was living with someone.
I asked him why. I was curious why someone would be in a relationship and think it’s okay to ask someone else out. He said he’s with her “because it’s comfortable”. Because it’s a place to go home to. But that he really liked me.
I’m sorry. But I’m not that lonely.
I was a little discouraged, and yet encouraged. I can be just friends with him. I was upfront with him. I’m a Christian, I’m a single mom, and I don’t play games. The only thing he would get from me is conversation in the store. Not even a phone number? No, sir.
I have to admit, those first few non-dates were exciting. I liked the attention he gave me. The compliments. The conversation. In short periods of time we discussed faith, family, jobs and relationships. At first I thought he was on the verge of leaving her, and I thought I could wait. We talked of going out: Where would he take me? What would I wear?
It was new. It was nice.
And then I came home and looked at myself in the mirror.
~Molly Jo~
I am nobody’s Other Woman. I never have been, and I never will be.
And so to him, and to anyone else who wants to know me enough to date me, here it is:
You don’t get me.
In this household, I live by example. I show my daughter what’s acceptable and what’s not. I live out my ministry in my world by trying to be the person I want to be for others. And I don’t want anyone to think it’s okay to cheat. To cut corners. To not care about the ones you’re supposed to care about. Yes, it’s hard. Yes, sometimes, I do get bouts of loneliness. But these rewards are worth more than a fleeting dinner or a stolen kiss.
So you don’t get me.
In this household, we do deep. We do real. We do honest. And we do love.
Not the way you want it – not the fast, replacement, lonely-filler kind of love that you think you have to offer. Not the selfish its-all-about-my-needs-and-I’m-tired kind of love that you’re demonstrating.
We do love-your-neighbor love. We do get-in-the-trash-if-that’s-where-the-treasure-is love. We do the hard crying when words fail. We do the laughing so hard people think we’re crazy. We do the public hugs and the private conversations and the dinner at the table and the leave-me-alone times.
We do it all.
And you know nothing of that.
Because you’ve never asked. Because you saw a single woman and called her “beautiful” and expected me to open up to you.
You so don’t get me.
I’m so much more than a conversation in a store or a cross around my neck. I am complicated and sweet and smart and confident. I live for God and I live for other people. I love coffee and Italy and Disneyland and cats and everything there possibly is to love about life. And I love people who can’t love themselves. I share stories and I hold things in. I am oxymoronic every day. I am strong and secure and scared and shy all at once.
But I know who I am. I love me the way I am. I love sharing my life with people. I want to feed the world and save the homeless and cure cancer and shout everything from the highest mountain and be still under the stars.
I want much out of life. But I don’t want you. I don’t know you.
Except you’re willing to compromise. You’re willing to rush into something you have no business rushing into, and people will get hurt in your wake.
I will not be one of them. Nor will I be the cause for one of them.
So you don’t get me.
Because I’m not that lonely.
And all I can say now is, I hope someday, you’re not that lonely either.
I may be rough, but I’m still a diamond!
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
You may also enjoy reading:
Who I Am
Nail Polish: If You’re a Guy, You Just Don’t Get It
“As Long As You Love Me”
Jan 6, 2014 |
Dear Disneyland,
Hello. Have you missed us? Because we miss you. We’d like to think our absence has been noticed, and not that we’ve been replaced.
It’s costly to come see you, but that’s our goal this year. Once the economy settles and our personal finances allow, we hope to once again stop under your famed arch.
Disneyland Arch
To my family – that is, just Dot and myself – Disneyland is so much more than a place to visit. It’s like coming home. There’s a feeling, an atmosphere, an aroma that captures us once we churn through the gate and get our hands stamped. I always have to stop for just a moment. I have to regain my heartbeat and catch my breath. And without a conscious thought, any stress I brought in with me is magically removed. I forget to think about work or chores or outside drama. I find myself smiling like a child: carefree and in awe.
We’ve been lucky enough in the past to spend family vacations within your Resort. We’ve also possessed Annual Passes. But that seems a lifetime ago, before the woes of the world snuck in and changed things.
We never lose hope that this is the year we’ll climb back on top and once again be able to be in your presence.
Because you are Magical.
The Three Fairies
And no matter how often we visit, there is always a mix of the familiar with the new. We never fail to ride Big Thunder Mountain Railroad. To Dot’s dismay, this is one of only two roller coasters that I’ll enjoy. (The other being Gadget’s Go Coaster).
Of course, we have to eat at both the French Market in New Orleans Square, and Rancho del Zocalo in Frontierland. One good meal a day is all we need to supplement the endless supply of snackbars and popcorn stands. We appreciate the healthy fruit choices, too. A cold bottle of water and a juicy orange really keeps us satisfied.
And the Character Dining? Seriously?! How awesome are you to have thought that one up! Food and fun for all, all at once? You make it so easy to play with our food, especially the Mickey-shaped waffles at breakfast!
Dessert Platter at Disneyland’s Ariel’s Grotto
We’ve experienced Goofy’s Kitchen, Plaza Inn, and Ariel’s Grotto. I’m desperate for the Storyteller’s Cafe. I’m saving that experience for the Dream Vacation (more on that later!).
Disneyland is the place we can bring Grandma for a leisurely day filled with glorious singing birds in the Tiki Room and majestic history at Great Moments with Mr. Lincoln.
Painting in Disneyland’s Great Moments with Mr. Lincoln
Disneyland is where we go to meet up with friends for special occasions. Or, just because we can.
The Pirate Pose
You make it possible.
Disneyland is inspirational. The story of Walt Disney encourages me daily.
Walt’s Bench at Disneyland
Walt’s Bench
Disney Dream
When I think I can’t write or get published, I think of Disney. And I know anything is possible. And when I hear “no” I keep trying. Because Walt did. And Disneyland does.
You’re so much more than a park.
You are one of the reasons I love Carousels. It’s never ridiculous for adults to find as much joy and amazement as the little children do while riding their steeds on King Arthur’s Carousel.
Fantasyland, Tomorrowland, Mickey’s Toontown, Adventureland, Critter Country, Frontierland… but my favorite is Main Street, U.S.A. It’s where the journey begins. It’s where all roads lead to Mickey.
The Man and The Mouse
And let’s not forget about Disney’s California Adventure right across the walkway. So many wonderfully magical moments await us there. A Bug’s Land is kid-sized but a place for people of all ages. California Soarin’ is a ride that scared This scared-of-heights Girl with it’s hang-gliding sensations so intense that I can’t wait to go back for another thrill.
Downtown Disney is another experience unto itself. The World of Disney, Marceline’s Confectionery and Disney Vault 23 are just a few of our favorite stores. When Dot was younger Build-a-bear was a must-do on our list (Don’t tell anyone this, but since I’m a teddy bear collector, for me it still is!).
Oh, yes, Disneyland. We miss you very much!
You’ve surprised us with chance encounters. That time I scheduled a trip and you called to let me know it coincided with the premiere of Pirates of the Caribbean. How we were in the right place at the right time to get a hello from Orlando Bloom and a wink from Johnny Depp.
Premiere of Disney’s Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest
And when we stayed with you that time when just down the street, one of my favorite authors was doing a book signing!
Stephen Cannell & I
Yes, Disney. You’ve truly been there for us.
I almost forgot one of the best parts: The Grand Californian Hotel & Spa. This is where Dot and I last vacationed, back in 2010. Knowing it would most likely be our last family vacation for quite a while, we opted to splurge. No longer a young child, Dot was looking for something a bit more sophisticated. The Grand Californian offered us not only the exquisite relaxation we needed, but the Disney experience we craved. I even created my bedroom in homage to that wonderful weekend!
Mini-suite at the Disneyland Grand Californian Hotel & Spa
My Disney-inspired Bedroom
We miss you, Disneyland. We miss you like a best friend and like a home-cooked meal after a hard day. We miss you like our cheerleader and confidante and a welcome hug.
We miss your coffee and your rides and your behind-the-scenes tours and your up-front-and-personal characters. We miss every ounce of you.
You’ve seen us through difficult times and great accomplishments. You’ve encouraged us to keep trying, and celebrated our successes. When we feel a bit let down or left out, you never disappoint.
And that is why, Dear Disneyland, we are striving to find our way back to you.
At the Wishing Well
Saying Goodbye
Wait for us.
Sincerely,
Molly Jo & Dot
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
You may also enjoy reading:
My Day at Disneyland
Real Disney Characters
Following Fabian
My Last Disney Day
My Soundtrack: The Year of the MoJo
