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Moldy Divisions

“Let your steadfast love, O Lord, be upon us, even as we hope in you.” Psalm 33:22 ESV

Black mold leached across the inside of the wooden lid of my floral painted glass tumbler. I scrubbed and scrubbed but was unable even with brushes to eradicate the mold underneath the rubber seal. There was nothing to do but throw the lid away. I was devastated; my thoughtful daughter, Maggie, had purchased this tumbler for my birthday. One of the best gift givers I know, she picked out something that was both cheerful and sustainable with a glass straw. For a solid month, I used the glass regularly. But one night, after an exciting book club meeting on Zoom, I left the glass, with water in it, on my desk, and forgot about it for about a week. And over the course of that week, mold developed and ruined the lid.

For the past few years, I have struggled with finding where my faith intersects with my political views. For years, I believed that my party held high moral ground when it came to supporting candidates. We took a strong stance when one president had an inappropriate relationship with an intern, and even moved to impeach him (I struggle with using the words “inappropriate relationship” when power dynamics are involved). But then came 2016 and the Hollywood Access tapes, and all the same issues that plagued former President Bill Clinton seemed to be ignored when dealing with Donald Trump. I heard again and again, vote for the one who supports causes Christians believe in, it doesn’t matter what his character has been. I watched while fellow Christians who voted for Donald Trump, and as he gained office and passed legislation, they seemed to put him on the same pedestal as Jesus.

Four years later, when protestors stormed the Capitol, these same Christians justified his actions. As more allegations have come against him, including credible sexual assault, Christians have chosen to align themselves even closer to former President Trump. They ignore all the hate speech, white supremacy connections, and belittling comments he makes. Instead, they focus on his candidates for the Supreme Court, some of his policies, and create memes where angels and Jesus are watching over his candidacy.

I have found some Christian community that doesn’t support Trump. Russell Moore, David and Nancy French, Tim Alberta and others take a strong and EDUCATED stance against Trump because of their faith. They articulate their views on various podcasts, op-eds in different newspapers, and have even written some books that explain how we as Evangelicals have gotten to the Trump era. They don’t profess that as Christians we have to be perfect. But they do believe that as Christians, we need to be ethical in who we support in politics.

By now, we have all heard of the assassination attempt on former President Donald Trump. As much as I oppose Donald Trump and have major concerns if he is elected, I am thankful that the assassination was not a success. Russell Moore stated on the social medial platform X that “Political violence is evil to the core and is an attack on everything this nation represents. Attempted murder is an attack on the image of God.” David French commented on Threads, “In moments like this, it’s imperative to condemn political violence, full stop. Don’t what-about. Don’t measure which side is worse. Just say it’s wrong, loudly and clearly.” They are the middle of the road voices that believe in God, rule of law, and decency.

Unfortunately, on both sides of the political spectrum, there are extremely loud voices that don’t hold themselves to these same standards. Instead, conspiracy theories are running amok in social media, wild assumptions about the hand of God and where the bullet should have gone are also being articulated, and more memes are shared about the wings of angels guarding certain individuals.

The mold on my lid spread because it had the perfect environment. Our air conditioning was on the fritz for the past few weeks. Therefore, the hotter temperatures in that room were causing the water to condense on the inside of the lid. It probably only took a few days before the mold developed, and within that few days my lid was ruined.

A week after the assassination attempt, President Biden has chosen not to seek reelection. With this new election drama, just like the mold, hyperbole is spreading from extremists on both sides. They each claim that democracy is at stake and accuse the other side of being fascist or socialist.

A few Sundays ago, my husband spoke boldly when leading prayer in our church. He asked the church at large to truly follow Jesus, instead of making certain hot button issues our religion or a certain politician our messiah. When I reflect on Terry’s focused prayer, I pause to consider what my personal rhetoric endorses.

As a Christian, I have asked myself some hard questions in the last few years. I continue to wrestle with these questions amid a divided nation, assassination attempts, and suspended campaigns. Do I follow Jesus, or do I follow a political party? Do I recognize the Bible as truth, including its consistent advocacy for the marginalized groups, or do I continue to vote in a way that further marginalize these groups? Finally, do I educate myself on these issues, instead of just accepting the views from certain perspectives, whether right or left?

This has been a journey for me, and in my community, I often feel alone with some of my views. I struggle with the urge to persuade others to take this journey with me. I try to hide my expressions as I cringe when Christians share a belief that I find contrary to my faith. I know my reactions, both verbal and nonverbal, should reflect Christ.

Where does this leave me in this upcoming election? First, local elections are far more important than I have ever believed. I am going to take the time to educate myself on who is running for school boards, council positions, and state offices. I think these positions can have a more direct impact than I initially believed on some of the causes I support. I also recently heard on a few podcasts a theme of hope, no matter who wins this election. This hope is not in a particular party, platform, or agenda. My hope needs to rest in Christ. Therefore, the outcome of the November election is not going to determine my joy or my peace. I am going to place my hope in the only place that sustains—in the arms of a just and gracious God, the only place I can find peace.

Terry was right to challenge me to follow Jesus; only He can save and lead!!

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Rip Van Winkle and My New Job

“I can do all things through him who strengthens me.” Philippians 4:13

Once again, I submitted my resume for a part-time position with a non-profit where I would be coordinating volunteers and connecting with the community. It was also for a cause I believed in: helping the unhoused in various ways. I knew it was a long shot, but I was hoping the part-time nature would limit the prospective applicant field, increasing my chances. To my surprise, I had a phone interview which led to an in-person interview. I grew excited and really hoped I would receive an offer. So, I waited, and on my way to Rhode Island I was offered and accepted the position. For the first time in 27 years, I was entering the work force on a professional level.

My husband and I made the decision for me to stay home with our children and later home educate them as well. My life was busy, creating lesson plans, writing some of my own curriculum, and researching the best methods to give my children a solid education. To make ends meet in our budget, I occasionally took on part-time jobs, including working as a direct seller for Pampered Chef, cleaning an office building, and working at Target. But most of my supplementary income came in the form of childcare, and in those 27 years, I have taken care of over sixty children, fifteen of which were long term stints. But lesson plans, church volunteering, and working retail 15 years ago don’t fill a resume with eye-catching work experience or marketable skills.

My first week of work, I packed my lunch, wore professional clothing, and left my house early in the morning. I was excited and nervous, but confident that I could do the job. But my confidence quickly dissipated when I started filling out forms and having conversations about drives, CRMs, mastering Outlook, and creating an email signature. For the first time, I felt exactly what I looked look like to the world: Rip Van Winkle (aka domestic servant and home educator) wakes up after having slept away the last twenty-seven years.

I don’t want to minimize the work I did at home. For many years, I successfully budgeted, meal planned, and prepared three meals a day for a family of four, including a few extras on a consistent basis. I was the master scheduler: organizing family events, managing activities, and doctor appointments, while making sure that all of us had clean underwear on a regular basis. Additionally, I taught my children how to read, write, and do arithmetic. I exposed them to art and music, explored nature and science, and made history come alive for them. I successfully prepared them for college, and both are still lifelong learners. I was busy leading a full life and still found time to be a Sunday School teacher, VBS coordinator, Bible Quizzing coach, and lead a girl’s group.

But all decisions have costs, and although my decision to stay home was best for our family, it led to a thin resume. When I last worked professionally, email was just starting to become a form of communication. I had a basic program I used for logging my activities, but it didn’t connect with the rest of my staff, and we only used one drive. My foray into the professional world made me feel unprepared and unqualified.

I have felt this way before: as I entered college, after I got married, bringing my first child home, picking a phonics program for my children, starting a blog, and writing my book. With each of these challenges, I felt inadequate and unsure. Those feelings are not bad, they position you to take the necessary steps in the right direction. I researched, asked a lot of questions, pivoted when I took a wrong step, and continued to work towards my goal. I wanted to be successful in college, marriage, parenting, home educating, and writing, and that meant taking risks. Just like in the past, I couldn’t let my Rip Van Winkle persona stop me from attempting to do my best in this new position.

It’s been a huge adjustment these last few weeks. I still feel like I am immersing myself in new skills: creating events for my Outlook calendar, formatting Excel databases to fit my needs, and creating procedures for me to do my work more effectively. My husband quietly smirks as I ask him about Excel spreadsheets, which I used to refer to as “my nemesis” (Terry is an Excel groupie and looks for coffee mugs or T-shirts to display his undying love). But at the same time, I feel like I am getting into a groove. I have had some insightful conversations with volunteers about what motivates them to sacrifice their time for our organization.

 What has surprised me the most is all the support I have been given by women who have been professionals all their adult lives. They offered technical support, a safe place to share my insecurities, and, most of all, encouragement. I have heard consistently from these women that they believe that I will succeed and that the position sounds perfect for me.

 For so many years, there seemed to be a divide between women who stayed at home and women who worked. Both sides felt like their side was being slighted, and competition ensued for whose job was the hardest. Today, it seems like we have turned a corner, and instead of working hard to validate our choices, more women are cheering each other on in their choices. And for someone who needed some extra reinforcement when insecurities flared, it was refreshing that so many successful, professional women were there to cheer me on!

By the way, for the first time in my life, I am going to get business cards…I am so excited!!!

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Weight Based on Grace

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. 2 Corinthians 12:9

I loved social studies throughout elementary school and junior high school. I read Laura Ingalls Wilder as a child, wishing I lived in a log cabin in the Wisconsin forest. I relished maps, carefully labeling the states and their capitals. I enjoyed creating the Wisconsin State project in fourth grade, learning about fur traders, German immigrants, and French missionaries. I even kept my 1984 election scrapbook until a few years ago, when I argued with Mr.Bemis that Mondale may still pull off the election. I dreamed of becoming a congressional aide or lobbyist, living in a brownstone in the heart of Washington DC.

Throughout those years, earning good grades in social studies came easy. I was so passionate about the subject; I soaked up the information like a sponge. I didn’t have to study as hard as I did in math or science, until Bob. St. Pierre’s World History class my sophomore year. I absolutely loved his class; he made ancient and medieval history come alive. My mind was filled with the treasures of the Library of Alexandria, the Code of Charlemagne, and the impact Robespierre had on the Reign of Terror during the French Revolution. Despite my love for his class, I had a rude awakening when my first test grade was a C-. With the audacity only a teenager can have, I asked him if there was some sort of mistake. He kindly told me he could tell that I hadn’t studied the material. He encouraged me to work harder next time and was sure my grades would improve. He held my lackluster grade in one hand and the possibility of a better future grade in the other hand. And he was right, with a little studying, soon I was earning higher grades.

A high school classmate of mine was featured on a podcast recently regarding her sobriety journey. After a season of hard things, Melissa admitted to her doctor that she had a problem with drinking. When the test results came back indicating that her liver was not functioning optimally, she was borderline diabetic, and had high cholesterol, Melissa knew she needed to make some drastic changes to live her best life. Within nine months of eliminating alcohol, choosing healthier foods and exercise, Melissa saw the results of her hard work. All her numbers shifted to normal, healthy levels and, more importantly, she felt better. She is sharing her journey both on Instagram and a new podcast as The Sober New Yorker. What struck me the most, despite her relationship with alcohol, Melissa, without hesitation and with total confidence, declared she was a great mom. She had no doubt that she had raised healthy, confident children.

In the last few years, I have realized how my childhood trauma informed some of my parenting. I took normal feedback from my children too personally, letting it paralyze me, instead of filtering it and making changes where needed. Additionally, my own desire to have a great family often came at the price of my children’s ability to safely express their emotions or challenges they were facing. I have asked them for forgiveness, but often the weight of these mistakes has clouded my conclusions about my parenting. It’s as if I put my evaluation of me being a mother on a scale, and more often I have tipped it towards the negative side, leaning towards the place of not being a great mom.

My husband made some of the same mistakes I made, and yet if you asked me about his parenting, I would not hesitate to tell you that he was a great dad. He worked a full-time job and was in school during most of their formative years. Yet, he chose to sacrifice his sleep so he could spend quality time with his children. He played with them, sang silly songs, and used different voices when reading The Trumpet of the Swan and The Hobbit. Once, he took them rock hunting and carried a backpack of treasured rocks for a half mile back to our car. He was affectionate and made Christmas magical for them. He used his artistic talents to help me carry out their birthday party extravaganzas. And he faithfully tucked them in at night and prayed over them.

This is a problem we face throughout our lives. We weigh something as either good or bad. And in some cases, some things are truly bad. My childhood was awful, and to heal, I needed to acknowledge the weight of that. If you have been raised by abusive parents, that is bad, and there is no good in it. But more often, there are a lot of us who are doing our best to be good parents, and we need to properly evaluate our parenting skills. We will make mistakes; we will not respond to our children perfectly calmly and be attuned to their emotions one hundred percent of the time. But if we are striving to be intentional, working on our own responses, and making our children a priority, we are doing a great job. We were never meant to be perfect, because we are human. And in our imperfections, we allow God to fill in the places in our children’s lives where we come up short.

This negative judgment creeps into all areas of my life: how I evaluate my finances, how I look at my body, and how I determine success in both my work and ministry. It’s so easy to look at things and see where I have perceived failure: I don’t own my home and I weigh more than I did two years ago. And it would be easy to take my life as a whole, put it on the scale of success, and weigh it as unsuccessful.

A few weeks ago, I had conversations with two women whom I had helped with childcare for a season. One mother was in the process of becoming a single mother and working hard to provide for her family. The other woman, along with her husband, chose to foster and later adopt two children who desperately needed a forever home. Yes, I was compensated for my time, but no one does childcare to become wealthy. Both women thanked me for the impact I have had on their families.  And the weight of that gratitude tips my scale towards success in the eyes of God.

I have a lot of exciting things happening in my life. I was just featured on a podcast, Woman Redeemed, my book is about to be published in October, and I have started a new position with a local non-profit organization. I have two incredible adult children who are married to spouses I adore, and three little grandchildren who call me Mimi. I have an amazing group of friends and I am about to celebrate 28 years of marriage to my favorite human. And I have an abiding relationship with God. My life is full and complete. So why do I continue to weigh things?

My scale has been sitting in my closet for the last year. I am still working on creating a healthy relationship with food, and weighing myself daily or even weekly became an obsession and a roller coaster ride of highs and lows. Maybe it’s time to throw out the scale completely. Not just the physical scale that gives me a number, but maybe I need to throw out the mental scale that I use to decide if I am good or bad. Maybe it’s time to show myself the same grace that God shows me and just continue to abide in Him!