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Do I Deserve the Guacamole?

“Whatever is good and perfect comes comes down to us from God our Father, who created all lights in the heavens.” James 1:17 NLT

I discovered guacamole way too late in life. Tony, a friend of mine who has lived in Arizona for many years, made the dish about 17 years ago at his mother’s holiday gathering in Wisconsin. The vibrant green stood out against the platters of brown and yellow: summer sausage, crackers, and cheese. I had recently discovered avocado at a local restaurant where it was added to a grilled cheese, elevating an ordinary sandwich with a fresh grassy note and a creamy texture. I couldn’t wait to try avocados in other ways, so I was magnetically drawn to the guacamole. My first bite transported me from the cold, bitter Wisconsin winter of slush and brown snow to a land of perpetual sunshine where I could feel the warm breezes whisper their song against my body. I had to know the secret to this magic green delight.

I asked Tony for the recipe, hoping to replicate this at home as soon as possible. Tony shared that he had mashed avocados with fresh lime juice and salt. He then folded in fresh tomatoes and onions. Finally, he added chopped cilantro, and adjusted the seasonings as needed. It sounded so simple, and within a day, I was buying the ingredients. My first batch wasn’t perfect, but after many attempts, I, too, was making the transformative guacamole for myself, adding it to our famous Collins’ fajita dinner. But for many years, when I went out for Southwestern or Mexican food, I refused to pay extra for guacamole. It may have been partially because our budget was tight, but it ran deeper. And this “not paying extra for guacamole” showed up in all sorts of ways in my life. It showed up in the old, tattered clothes I kept in my closet, or when I made all the cookies my family liked, putting the raspberry Linzers that I loved last on the list. It showed up during a vacation where I spent all my time cooking and cleaning, feeling resentful inside while everyone else was having a great time. The underlying reason for all of this was I didn’t feel I deserved the extras that made life joyful. After all, wasn’t I Christian? Shouldn’t my only joy be found in serving Christ and benefiting the kingdom of God?

The Bible emphasizes throughout scripture that we are to be servants; humble and loving our neighbors as ourselves. When we contrast that with what fills our social media feeds, secular magazine articles, and podcasts, the differences seem to be in direct opposition. The memes about mommies needing wine time, and the self-care movement, along with the need to set aside “Me-Time” seem rooted in selfishness, indulgence, and pride. Often, these messages cause us to pivot the other direction where we perceive ourselves to be selfless, sacrificial, and humble. But in the last few years, I have been asking myself: is that pivot to the opposite end of the spectrum really what God was calling for? Do we really understand the principles of God, or are we trying to measure things according to standards rooted in Puritanical thinking that set an unrealistically high bar? Did God really object to me splurging on guacamole? And why do I use the word splurge? Is that word itself implying extravagance that I don’t deserve?

I think the key to all these answers is what is in my heart and how I perceive God. The Bible clearly recognizes the importance of self-care. Jesus himself departed from the crowds occasionally to refuel and recharge himself. This sets an example for us to make sure we get adequate rest and recognize our limitations. I am consistently reminded of the importance of rest because my Rheumatoid Arthritis causes inflammation in my joints when I am too busy and not taking care of myself. I also recognize that I am not the person who should help someone move because of my physical limitations. Instead, I can bring a meal to a family after they have moved. But self-care becomes indulgence when I know I could help with something and make excuses as to why I can’t: I’m too busy, it’s a big ask, or I’ll wait to see if someone else volunteers.

There may be seasons where I am too busy, but I must ask myself some hard questions before I determine how busy I am: how much time do I spend reading or watching or scrolling?  None of those things are bad, but it may inform me how well I manage my time. I also must ask myself if I’m only helping when it is convenient in my schedule? Finally, if I am waiting for someone else to volunteer, there is a strong chance that someone won’t, and maybe the whisper I am hearing is God calling me to an act of service.

Loving my neighbor, as exemplified by the Good Samaritan, is sometimes a big ask in relation to our resources and time. The Samaritan saw a Jewish man lying on the road, beaten and barely holding on to life. The Bible says the Samaritan had compassion, which in Greek was the word splagchnixomai. It truly is a fun word to pronounce, with an interesting definition. It implies that he was moved with a deep compassion from his bowels. This doesn’t mean you contort your face like you are constipated to demonstrate your compassion. The bowels were considered the seat of your mercy and pity. This compassion was so deep, it moved the Samaritan to action. He bandaged the man, cleaning up the dirt and blood caked on the man’s body. He took him into the city, stayed with him overnight and paid the bill for the man’s expenses until the man was healed. He did not do this because he was obligated and checked off the boxes for being a good Samaritan. Instead, he took care of this man because he had empathy for the man’s vulnerability. When I serve out of obligation, I am no different than the Levite or the Priest that passed by. I am exactly like the Pharisees bragging about my gifts before God. But when I love my neighbors as God calls me to, I will be moved with compassion to action. There is no indication that the Samaritan checked his schedule to see if he had the time to care for the man on the roadside. There is no record that he had an abundant bank balance. Instead, he loved his neighbor well because he coupled his empathy with action. If I am truly seeking the kingdom of God, there will be times I will be moved with compassion to love my neighbor well, and I won’t count the cost. I will act decisively with a heart towards my neighbor’s vulnerability. But when I am resentful of serving, that’s an indication that my heart is not in the right place.

As a Christian, we need to position ourselves in humility, but does this mean we don’t deserve good things? The answer to that question has a lot to do with what I believe about God and myself. I would like to say that I drew this conclusion freely, but I struggled with finding the right answer, and I phoned a pastor friend, Mike Kemper, who helped me examine this rightly. Mike reminded me that we have a good God who promised the Hebrews a land that flowed with milk and honey, “not water and protein powder.” God gives us good gifts, and for me that may mean guacamole and the means to afford it. When I receive a good gift from God, I can express my gratitude like David and so many of the psalmists did. It reminds me that my God is generous with His goodness and mercy. When I get into a place where I feel like I deserve something, I start to elevate myself and move into the position of the provider. It places me at the center, instead of God.

So, where does this leave me with the guacamole, tattered clothes, raspberry Linzers and the endless meal preparation when I am on vacation. First, I am the daughter of a good Father who wants to lavish blessings on me. If I remain in a place of gratitude and live within my means, I think the extra $2.75 for guacamole is just fine. He created me to love the mixture of avocado with lime and the right genes to enjoy the fresh taste of cilantro, unlike my husband who thinks it tastes like soap. I don’t think God expects me to stay in tattered clothing, but I also need to balance that with contentment and an eye on my budget. Going into debt for fashion, furniture, cars, or anything is an indication that I don’t trust God. It’s okay to make a cookie you like during the holidays, that also brings festivity to the platter without artificial colors. It also means I need to voice my own desires for a vacation, where I am not in the kitchen all the time, and where I am getting the same rest and rejuvenation everyone else is getting.

“Yes, please, I want the guacamole!” will be my answer for the near future! (Unless we get into a trade war with Mexico, where tariffs make avocados a luxury item! But that is a totally different discussion.)

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Atmosphere

“So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God.” 1 Corinthians 10:31

A few days ago, I woke with the sun peeking through my curtains. Clad in my pajamas, I headed downstairs to see that frost had blanketed the lawn, while the cool crisp air from outside had seeped into my home. Shivering, I adjusted the heat, covered up with one of my cozy throws, and opened my Bible. The heat kicked in, and the rising sun lit the room with a warm glow. But something didn’t quite feel right, and I knew instantly what was wrong. The icy fingers of the silence snatched away any warmth supplied by the throws, the sun, or the heat. I knew it was time to start filling the home with joyous Christmas music, and I knew just where to start. I asked Alexa to play “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” by The Piano Guys. Instantly, the mellow notes of the cello filled the room with hope, soon followed by the tinkling notes of the piano, giving the hope wings.  The atmosphere changed as peace and joy flooded my home and my soul.

It has been two weeks since the cacophony of the election ads, accusations from both sides, and shouts of despair have quieted. The polls have closed, and with that, ended one of our nation’s most tumultuous elections. Some who read these words spent the next day rejoicing, while others were in despair. I have had a lot of thoughts about this election, and how as a Christian I personally felt called to vote. I know my views were in direct opposition to many of my friends and surprised some on the other side. I have no intention of justifying my reasons or trying to persuade others of the wisdom of my decision. I can say that I thoughtfully prayed, listened carefully to some people I respect on the issues, and cast my vote, confident of making the right choice for my faith.

The biggest takeaway from the election is not about who was right and who was wrong. No one on either side can say in truth that God favored the winner and frowned upon the loser. They only thing we can definitively say is that God is in control. It’s also not important for me to lay out my own personal interpretation of why one candidate won and the other lost. I will leave that analysis to Tim Alberta, David French, and Sarah Steward Holland and Beth Silvers from Pant Suit Politics, a new independent podcast I have discovered. The real takeaway is this: how do I, as a Christian, move forward in our nation, sharing the peace, joy, and hope that I feel in Christ? How can I create an atmosphere that others of different beliefs can feel and maybe experience?

God prioritizes creating the right atmosphere. Eden was full of different fruits, plants, and animals, creating a beautifully diverse world. Later, God set up his tabernacle appealing to all our senses. He charged designers to carefully craft intricately carved gold furnishings. He had curtains carefully woven so that visually they told a story. Candles burned eternally, creating a place of reverence and light. He used special ingredients for the incense whose scent would distinctly remind visitors that this was the place where God dwelled. The sound of prayers offered up to God were heard throughout the tabernacle. Even the sense of taste was used in the tabernacle, when the priests ate the shewbread every Sabbath, reminding us that we need to come to God regularly for our daily needs.

Beyond the tabernacle, the New Testament exemplifies Jesus using His senses to minister to other’s needs. He saw the disreputable tax collector, Zacchaeus, hiding in a tree, and invited Himself over to Zacchaeus’ home. Virtue flowed out of Jesus when the hemorrhaging woman grasped His robe. His hands molded dirt with spit and placed this poultice on the eyes of a blind person to bring sight. He heard His disciples’ cries during an epic storm, responding to their fears by defying all scientific principles, calming the storm with His command. He ignored the scent of Lazarus’s decaying body, bringing life back to His friend.

As a Christian, I am called to be a witness for Christ by being a peacemaker, speaking truth with love, and glorifying God in everything I do. I can model myself after Jesus by engaging my senses to minister to those around me. Like Jesus, I can keep my eyes open for those who are marginalized and invite them over dinner. Showing hospitality opens doors for conversations with others who may not think or believe the way I do. I can pay attention to those who are in desperate situations and reaching out for help by acknowledging their identity in Christ. Jesus called the hemorrhaging woman His daughter, inviting her into relationship with Him. When I recognize everyone as being created in the image of God, respect should flow from me to them with my conversation and social medial posts. I can use my hands to minister to those who are in need by making meals, writing cards, or cleaning someone’s home when needed. When people feel stressed by what’s going on in the world, I can offer peace by remaining calm and listening to their concerns. Finally, when the stench of controversy and divisiveness floods social media and dinner tables, I can quietly turn the conversations back toward life by addressing the hard issues, and by acknowledging what Jesus cared about most: making broken people whole.

This doesn’t mitigate my concerns for the next four years. I have concerns that some potential cabinet candidates with checkered pasts relating to sexual misconduct and assault will silence victims and empower perpetrators by giving them legitimacy. I believe in strong borders but am concerned about the consequences mass deportation would have on those who are desperately trying to have a better life. Labeling immigrants, legal or not, as “not humans” or “Hannibal Lectors” denies the fact that all people are created in the image of God. I believe in the sanctity of life, but it goes far beyond a baby in the womb. I do not believe the incoming administration will offer support to single mothers by extending childcare credits or offering decent health insurance. And my list continues. But staying in a constant state of worry doesn’t move the dial forward toward solutions on any of the issues. Instead, I need to do my part whenever and wherever I can. I also can work toward being a peacemaker in my own circles.

Thanksgiving is right around the corner. Menus have been planned; turkeys will soon start their journey toward juicy, brown goodness; and pumpkin pie dreams fill my grandchildren’s heads. Often, our tables are full of people we love, but who think or believe differently than we do. I will sit at many tables during this holiday season where people think differently than I do. I am sure some of the conversations around the table will cross political lines. For me, I am going to try to create an atmosphere around these tables that represents Jesus, sharing the hope, peace, and joy I feel. These will always remain no matter who is president.

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Prologue: Sunshine

“See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are.” 1 John 3:1

It was a Saturday morning when God ushered a healing moment into my life. It didn’t happen with me crying at the altar, pouring my heart out to the Lord, although moments have happened there. It didn’t happen with me coming to a revelation while engaged in professional counseling, although at times it has happened there. It didn’t happen with me finding a scripture and dissecting it till it imprinted meaning on my life, although it has happened there, too. Instead, it happened on an ordinary morning where I was unexpectedly graced with the Lord’s gift of restoration.

My husband, Terry, had had a busy week at work and at church. I can’t recall the exact details of what was going on. It could have been late nights due to overtime, or maybe he was working on putting some music together for choir, but whatever the reasons, my 4-year-old blond-haired, blue-eyed daughter, Maggie, had felt slightly neglected by her father. She had been playing quietly on the floor when her dad stepped into the room. She pleaded with her soft, sweet voice saying, “Daddy, can you please sit down by me?” He quickly plopped on the floor next to this child that we called our sunshine. She sat across from him and said, “Daddy, I’ve missed you. Can you please just hold my hands?” Terry gently took his large man hands and held the dainty hands of our daughter for a few moments, just gazing with love and wonderment in his eyes. He then quietly whispered the words “I love you,” and she beamed with joy, her mouth smiling widely, causing her eyes to crinkle.

Maggie and Terry on her wedding day!

At that exact moment, I felt God’s peace flood my soul. In Philippians 4:7 (ESV), scripture describes this as “the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding.” I felt God whispering to me that this is an example of the beautiful relationship He intended all daughters to have with their fathers. It is the relationship He, as my Heavenly Father, intended for me, His daughter, to have with Him. He continued to whisper that He was going to use my daughter’s relationship with her father to demonstrate to me what He intended. My daughter’s healthy relationship with her father would provide restoration for my troubled and ugly childhood. No, it would not erase my memories of what had happened. No, it would not make everything better. No, it would not answer all the why’s in my life. But He would take the brokenness in my life and continue the work of restoring me. He would show me how much He had loved me even when I was being abused and neglected by the man I called my father. He would show me the beauty of restoration.

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Restoration: The Post That Led to My Book

“And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.” Philippians 1:6 ESV

Note to Reader: This blog was previously posted in June 2020 as a test to see if I could put my story out to the world. You will learn in my upcoming memoir, how I reacted to my first post.

Last Sunday marked another year; another year I did not buy a Father’s Day card for my father. In fact, I don’t recall ever buying a card for either my biological father, or my stepfather. It is possible that in grade school I may have made a card, but I have no clear memory of doing so. I have purchased cards for my husband, celebrating the wonderful, nurturing father he has been to our children. I have also bought cards for my grandfather, my father-in-law and my uncle, who acted as positive male role models in my life. Yet, I will never make a warm sappy post highlighting that I am still a “Daddy’s girl” on Instagram. I will never share a picture of my father walking me down the aisle on my wedding day, instead it was my uncle who fulfilled that role. The harsh reality is that I don’t have a father to celebrate or honor!

For you to understand my situation, I will share a brief history of my family. My biological father signed away his parental rights when I was a baby. I did meet him once and subsequently decided the relationship was not worth an investment. I was raised by my stepfather, an alcoholic who sexually abused me. He was later arrested and convicted of sexual assault. It’s easy to understand why I don’t buy a Father’s Day card for either of them.

I could close my blog right now, and I am sure comments of sympathy and empathy would ensue. I might even get questions about the details, or about the importance of expressing forgiveness. But not spending $5.99 for a Hallmark sentiment on Father’s Day is just a prologue to the main story. It doesn’t tell the story of a woman in her late forties who cherished and treasured every picture her friends shared on Father’s Day with their own amazing dads. It doesn’t tell about the woman who loves to plan a full day celebrating her husband on Father’s Day. It doesn’t show the restoration that has taken place.

Restoration is defined as the action of returning something to a former condition. I love old furniture, but unlike antique purists such as my father-in-law, I don’t love to restore furniture. Instead, I love to paint pieces a fun, new color and replace the old hardware. It fits my décor style and takes less time. And a good coat of paint can cover up a lot of damage. But true restoration takes time and effort. Often, you have strip away the old finish, sand the piece down, and carefully stain it to its former glory. My husband and I toured The Breakers, the old Vanderbilt mansion in Newport, Rhode Island. The curators of this mansion did an amazing job trying to find as many original period pieces as possible to furnish the house. The restoration of these pieces was carefully done and is priceless, demonstrating the amazing craftsmanship of the designer!

Picture Credit to Margaret Diller

Imagine with me that when I was born, I was a beautiful table, designed and carefully carved by God himself. My wood grain was stained carefully to let the beauty of the piece shine through. Yet, within a few short years of my life, this table was damaged beyond recognition by misuse and abuse. In some areas, the beautiful wood grain was marred with scratches that cut deeply into its surface. It no longer functioned as a table and most people would not have even bothered trying to sell it at their yard sale. Its battered surface and legs looked worthless and unsalvageable.

Thirty-one years ago, this table, my life, was on its way to the dump, all but crushed by the weight of worries and burdens I was never meant to carry. I had just shared with the police and social workers the details of my years of sexual abuse. My stepfather was immediately arrested, and I was experiencing post-traumatic shock. Yet, within a few months, I experienced the love of Jesus, an unconditional love that forever changed my life. Being filled with His spirit, I felt peace amidst the chaos, pain and brokenness.

This infilling of God’s spirit was the beginning of the restoration process. This involved therapy with counselors, but a lot of the process involved God using His word, His spirit, and His body of believers to restore me. Some of the process involved stripping me of the wounds of abuse, carefully sanding my distorted thoughts and views to bring out the beautiful grain. It included refinishing me with a new stain, restoring in me the trust and beauty found in a marriage, family and friends. It entailed ripping out damaged places such as coping mechanisms that led to food addiction and replacing them with new, sturdier hardware, including the satisfaction and fulfillment found only in God. This restoration didn’t happen overnight, and I can’t say that it is complete, yet. I can’t say that there aren’t some scars underneath the table that still need to be uncovered and healed. However, I can say that God has done an incredible work in my life, restoring me to what He had intended from the beginning. I am not the same table that I was when I was born. God, through his restoration process, has created a new masterpiece that reflects His amazing craftsmanship!

This is just a glimpse into a major project I am working on: writing a book about the restoration of a life. In this blog I have used the metaphor of restoring a piece of furniture for simplicity’s sake. In my book, I am relating my life to the restoration of a home, a deeper and more involved project than a simple table. My goal in the book is to walk you through my restoration process, unfolding how God has ministered to me in different areas of my life. This journey of restoration is my story, but I believe, whether it is childhood trauma, as in my case, or a failed marriage, an unexpected death, or any situation that causes us to be broken, we all have areas where we need God’s intervention to help bring us back to a place of restoration. In Jeremiah 30:17, the Lord prophesies, “For I will restore health unto thee, and I will heal thee of thy wounds.” According to the Matthew Henry commentary, most of Jeremiah’s prophecies fall in the area of reproof and threats. Yet, this chapter is one of two chapters that stand out as a source of comfort and hope. Despite the effects of sin, whether self-induced, or inflicted by others, God had a plan to restore His people to health and heal their wounds. This promise was not only for Israel, but for us, today, as well!

Father’s Day will arrive every year for the rest of my life, and there will always remain some “nevers” in my life, including never buying my father a Father’s Day card. But this is not a source of pain or contention for me, but rather a reminder of God’s grace and love. Like the Apostle Paul says in Philippians 1:6, “Being confident of this very thing, that he which hath begun a good work in “Sherry” will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ.” God has begun a good work in me, and I can’t wait to finish my book so that you can read about it!

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Grumpy Old Woman

“He shall be to you a restorer of life and nourisher of your old age.” Ruth 4:15 ESV

In our quest to be healthier, Terry and I made some sourdough morning glory muffins. Instead of refined sugar, we used honey and blackstrap molasses. Following the recipe, we filled the batter with fresh pineapple, grated carrots and zucchini, walnuts, and coconut. Next, we decided to add our own flair: orange zest. I love orange zest! It brightens pasta dishes and adds fresh notes to a salad dressing. It balances desserts and the pop of color is delightful. But in this muffin, after fermenting for the prescribed 24 hours, the zest gave the muffins a bitter aftertaste. I don’t know if the zest reacted badly to the fermentation or contrasted badly with the molasses. I do know I won’t be adding zest the next time.

I turned fifty-two a few weeks ago, and aging is happening before my eyes. My daughter showed me a picture of my husband and I from seven years ago. She remarked about how young we looked, and as much as I wanted to deny it, I could clearly see the difference. Our hair is a little grayer, and our fine lines a little more obvious. Along with the aches and pains of aging, I have read articles on aging that indicate that I should expect my olfactory senses to dull as my taste buds shrink. In the next few decades, food may taste less flavorful and require more salt. By the time I hit my late 70’s, I might like the zest in my morning muffin.

As a young child, the oldest people I knew were my great-grandmother and her sisters. I was forced to endure their presence at major holiday events and celebrations. Scrawny with permed hairdos, they wore polyester pants and patterned blouses. Their sour expressions were accentuated with bright red lipstick. Their penchant for cannibal sandwiches (ground beef tartar and raw onions) was as unpleasant as their complaints about relatives that were not in the room. They were judgmental, often remarking how misbehaved I and my siblings were. They prided themselves on being frank, sharing unwanted advice and opinions. It was one of these ladies who humiliated me by saying I was too fat to wear leg warmers. I clearly remember saying to myself I never want to be a grumpy, crotchety old lady.

The stereotype of being a grumpy old man and a crotchety old lady is illustrated in literature, movies, and TV shows. Archie Bunker embodied grumpiness with his wry remarks to his son-in-law. Ruth Zardo, the fictional poet in Louise Penny’s Three Pines series, frustrates her neighbors but shows unusual affection for her duck. Although these are stereotypes, I do see evidence of growing prickliness in people my age and older. Sometime, much to my dismay, I even see evidence of it creeping into my own life.

It starts with minor complaining: remarking that young moms should be stricter with their toddlers, passing judgment on someone’s Starbucks budget, or sarcastic comments made about the newest fashions. Soon, these comments morph into conclusions about a whole generation, assuming the motivations for their behavior and choices. They might see the younger generation as being disrespectful, distracted, and lazy. I have fallen down this slippery slope, and it’s just a matter of time before this judgmental attitude will potentially transform me into one of those dreadful old great-great aunts, sans the cannibal sandwiches!

Although I can do nothing about my aging taste buds, I can keep from becoming a grumpy old lady. It starts with being more open to new ideas and opinions. Yes, I have more life experiences and, hopefully, a little more wisdom than a twenty-year-old, but I have not arrived. If I remain in a posture of humility, I can maintain curiosity as I invest in my relationships with younger generations. This position has helped me change my assumptions. I’ve learned that my children’s generation believe in working hard, but also value a better work/life balance than previous generations. They don’t see working excessive amounts of overtime as the pinnacle of success. They also value mutual respect and will set healthy boundaries with people when their respect is violated. My generation struggled with boundaries, often partaking in events with cantankerous family members, then leaving frustrated and diminished. Finally, many of the younger generation value authentic relationships, and they see us as being just as attached to our devices as they are.

These are some of the ladies I have served with in MOMCo!

Recently, I saw a post on Jen Hatmaker’s Instagram page about the trend of wearing crocs or tennis shoes with dressier clothes. Her thread went on with comments about how comfortable the young women were in their fashion decisions at major events like proms. They purchase fancy dresses with sequins and tulle. They embrace getting their hair done and nails manicured. But they draw the line when it comes to wearing uncomfortable heels. They wear their fancy dresses and corsages with gym shoes or with crocs and socks, and they wear it proudly. It brought back a painful memory of being in New York City with my sister Cheryl. We dressed up and had dinner at the famous 21. We then went to see the musical Wicked with the original cast, ending the night with a carriage ride in Central Park. I wore heels that night, and they were fine for the first 5 hours. But by the end of the night, my feet pinched, and my toes were crunched. At one point, I took off my shoes and walked in my tights along Broadway for a few minutes, relieved of the pain. I wish I had had as much confidence as those young women have, choosing to wear more sensible shoes in New York City.

Along with being humble, I have chosen to actively connect with some younger women. I volunteer with a group of incredible older women as mentors for MOMCo (formally MOPS). As a mentor, we connect with younger moms who are parenting infants, toddlers, and preschoolers. Our role is to listen, encourage, validate, and occasionally offer a bit of wisdom. As much as I am volunteering my time, I find myself learning from these moms about how difficult parenting is in our current world. These new moms have the same desires I did: to raise their children to love God and to be healthy and whole. They have the added difficulty of sifting through information overload on what’s the best method for raising children. If I keep their same desires in perspective, it doesn’t matter if they co-sleep and or use baby-led weaning when feeding their babies. What matters is that they need a bit of encouragement and authenticity on my part, recognizing that motherhood is hard.

Finally, the last part is probably the hardest: I need to curb my criticism. My grandbabies love fruit/vegetable pouches for snacks. I love that they are getting kale, beets, and berries, even if it’s in a puree form. But I wasn’t as open-minded about it. Prior to being a grandparent, I voiced my criticism of what I perceived as overuse of pouches. My daughter defended the mothers who used the pouches for snacks, remarking that it was convenient, and was a way to get extra fruits and vegetables into their toddlers. After thinking about what she had said, I realized how critical I had been. Although I wasn’t saying this directly to the mothers, my criticism was just as ugly as a thought as the voiced opinion about my leg warmers.

As a Christian, I am called to speak truth. But too often, we forget the second part of Paul’s admonishment. He says in Ephesians 4:15, “speaking the truth in love.” Additionally, if you read the whole chapter, he has some other qualifiers about walking in unity with other believers. He encourages us to position ourselves with “all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.” (Ephesians 4:2-3 ESV). I don’t think this approach should be just with believers, but with everyone. If I speak the truth critically, without Paul’s guidelines, I am hurting those around me. But if I foster a relationship based on love, I may be able to speak truth that will help guide someone to make better decisions.

I look back on the Sander sisters, my old great-great-aunts, and wonder what brought them to that place of being crotchety. I know my great-grandmother lost her toddler son after he fell into a bucket of hot lye, later dying of pneumonia. I heard rumors that one of the great-great-aunts had a back-alley abortion that ruined her chances of ever having children. I have heard they warned others about staying away from some “touchy-feely” male family members, implying that there were potential pedophiles in their midst. Looking back, I have more compassion for them, wishing I knew their stories. But despite their stories, we all make choices regarding how we treat younger generations.

At fifty-two, I am choosing to listen to the stories of the older women in my life, for inspiration and for wisdom. I am also choosing to be actively interested in those women younger than me who inspire me. I hope others perceive me as a colorful, encouraging older woman who eats a lot of humus.

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Stewarding the Earth: Echo Chambers and Climate Change

“but in your hearts honor Christ the Lord as holy, always prepared to make a defense to anyone who asks you for the reason for the hope that is in you; yet do it in gentleness and respect.” 1 Peter 3:15 ESV

Four and half years ago, I titled my blog Graceful Transitions and started writing about my midlife journey. I wanted it to be a space where I could share things I was wrestling with, such as creating more intimacy in my marriage, being transparent about my journey to better health, and moving from parenting to blessing my adult children. Just as I agonized over the names of my children, I picked the name for my blog carefully. I wanted this to be a place that exuded gracefulness. In years past, I had been bold and harsh with my opinions, often alienating those around me. But life has a way of humbling you, and I wanted to operate in that space. My writings could still be bold and confident, but I didn’t want to come off as an expert. Instead, I wanted to share my thoughts in a gentle manner that dignified both God and the reader. The word “transitions” was also carefully thought out. I didn’t want to portray myself as someone who has arrived. Instead, I wanted to be curious, eager to learn and grow in my relationship with Christ. These traits would move me from one place to another with fluidity.

We often walk in a local park that has a tunnel underneath a busy road. Anytime we have children with us, we stop in the tunnel for a few minutes. They sometimes yell each other’s names or just make a loud noise and listen to it reverberate. There is something about hearing an echo that is delightful. Your voice becomes an instrument that can drown out any other sound. And it’s contagious. Once one child makes a sound, other children quickly start doing the same. And soon, the tunnel becomes a cacophony of noise.

Initially, I had no intentions of pontificating on any hot button issues in my blog. Current event noise fills our screens with rants and raves, polarizing our society. But as I continued to write, I found God gracefully transitioning me out of the self-imposed echo chamber I had been in for the last thirty years. This echo chamber informed my political views, how I looked at the world, and what causes I believed in. Like the tunnel, the echo chamber noise of the 2020 election became deafening. And as the world dealt with the pandemic, racism, and immigration issues, I found myself looking for other perspectives.

This led to a spiritual crisis. For so many years, I espoused the idea that you could only vote one way to be a good Christian. I even challenged others on this principle, boldly declaring that God only accepted the votes of one political party. But again and again, I kept reading in scripture how God cared for the poor, the widow, the fatherless, and the sojourner (another word for immigrant). Did my votes support what God truly cares about? Can Christians think differently about issues?

God always has a way of helping you wrestle well these concepts. As I read scripture, God directed me to other Christians who had a different perspective from those on talk radio and certain news outlets. These thinkers researched carefully, believed all people were created in the image of God, and still held fast to scripture. They didn’t water down the gospel, but instead looked at scripture wholly and completely.

All this reading, listening, and thinking led me to this series on Stewarding the Earth. For years, the far right has labeled environmental supporters “wackos and pagan worshippers”. As a follower of Christ, I am troubled by the name calling I used to support. Is name calling helpful in moving the conversation forward and declaring the gospel to those who care about the earth? I now believe you can be a Christian environmentalist. John Muir, one of the biggest environmental supporters had Christian roots. Founder of the Sierra Club and considered the father of the National Parks, Muir believed in God. He was known to share his faith with others on the University of Wisconsin campus. Some scholars acknowledge that Muir struggled with orthodox Christianity later in life, but he did recognize God’s hand in creation throughout his book My First Summer in the Sierra. Today, one of the leading climate change scientists, Katherine Hayhoe, is a Christian. She has been awarded Champion of the Earth, the United Nation’s highest environmental honor. In her bio on her website, she says, “I don’t accept global warming on faith; I crunch the data, I analyze the models. I help engineers and city managers and ecologists quantify the impacts.” There are also some faith based environmental advocacy groups, like A Rocha International and the Evangelical Environmental Network.

I have heard two consistent arguments from fellow Christians against environmental policies. First, they believe that environmentalists worship creation more than the creator. There may be some truth to this in some cases. But scripture supports the fact that when people express awe in creation, it points them to the creator. David says in Psalms 8:3, “When I look at your heavens, the work of your finger, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place.” This sense of awe was reaffirmed by Paul in Romans 1:20, where he says, “For the invisible attributes, namely his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made.” Psychologist Dacher Keltner, who has studied awe, finds that experiencing awe makes people more curious and less judgmental. It also makes people more humble, generous, and altruistic. If we Christians keep the earth as awe inspiring as we can by reducing our impact on the climate, can we point others to Christ? If we value the created earth, because it points to an awesome creator, can we have conversations with non-believers when they are curious and open to ideas about how God frames our world? These conversations can only happen if we, too, are inspired by awe. This will help us to express curiosity and be less judgmental.

The next argument I hear often is that we were given dominion over the earth from the beginning of time. Again, there is truth in that. Genesis 1:28 says, “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.” But the Bible goes on to say in Genesis 2:15, “The Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to work it and keep it.” The Hebrew word for work is “abad” which also means to serve, and the Hebrew word for keep is “samar” which means to guard and keep watch, protect, and save. When you put the two verses together, it changes our view on the word dominion. We are to operate on God’s behalf, and we are called to rule over the earth by protecting and serving it. By doing this well, we are ensuring that the earth will provide us with the means to survive: a healthy climate where animals and vegetation are thriving, and clean water flows freely. God didn’t give us the authority to destroy and plunder the earth!

There are some great theologians and philosophers who advocate for a more theologically sound view of the environment. C. S. Lewis, great Christian apologist, warned in The Abolition of Man that “Man’s conquest of Nature turns out, in the moment of its consummation, to be Nature’s conquest of man.” Francis Schafer, a leading Christian philosopher, challenged believers in Pollution and the Death of Man, “Christians, of all people, should not be the destroyers. We should treat nature with an overwhelming respect.” Wendell Berry, poet and naturalist, writes in The Art of the Commonplace: The Agrarian Essays, “…the care of the earth is our most ancient and most worthy and, after all, our most pleasing responsibility. To cherish what remains of it, and to foster its renewal, is our only legitimate hope.” These Christians contemplate the word of God and carefully choose words to respond to concerns they have about the environment. I wonder how often the voices that oppose environmental policies contemplate scripture and man’s responsibility towards the earth.

As a follower of Christ, I am expected to shine His light in a dark world. This is more than just sharing my testimony; it should be embodied in how I act and treat others and the earth around me. How I live my life impacts the climate. My carbon footprint increases drought and flood conditions and changes water supplies. It also makes winters warmer, allowing bugs and pests to increase. Their increase can lead to the destruction of forests and other vegetation. Food supply chains are being affected and the sea level is also changing. All this change directly impacts my neighbor, from the person next door to those in Mozambique who contribute little to the carbon footprint. Katherine Hayhoe’s website is full of information about how climate change is affecting our world. She uses scientific research to support her arguments and to counter the opposition.

I have written about noise pollution, our obsessive use of plastics, and how to Leave No Trace. Some of these ideas will help reduce our carbon footprint. Although I don’t personally own a hybrid or electric vehicle, I can argue the benefits of encouraging research and development in making these vehicles more viable. I can also talk about how shopping locally, both for produce and meat, is another way you can reduce your carbon footprint. But the biggest way for me to make an impact is to acknowledge climate change is real and to be educated before I enter the voting booth, both on a national and a local level. Supporting policies that reduce climate change can be one of the most important ways I steward the earth well as a follower of Christ.

This is the end of my series on Stewarding the Earth. Readers, I hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to comment on any of the posts I have made. I will continue the conversation in the future with some interviews with fellow Christians who model these principles well. Additionally, I will likely write about other issues where God has been opening my eyes to a wider and fuller view of scripture. These still fit into the ethos of Graceful Transitions, because I want my words to dignify God and you, my readers. Thank you for all your support.

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Shadows and Groundhogs

“Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.” James 1:17 ESV

Last Friday, men in top hats and tails gathered in front a huge crowd to see Punxsutawney Phil, one of the world’s most famous rodents. Music played, speeches were made, and cameras clicked as this groundhog crept out of his man-made burrow. Everyone held their collective breath, awaiting the groundhog and the view of his shadow. Soon, an early spring was declared with pomp and cheers. Due to the cloud cover, Phil did not see his shadow, and a 137-year tradition continued.

Years ago, I met a woman and her two children at the library. We struck up a conversation and immediately found a common interest with both of us being home educators. Soon, our families were eating dinner and playing games together. She seemed eager for community and would often bring little gifts of appreciation or write kind notes. Our husbands got along, and I was looking forward to building a lasting friendship.

Within a few months of the budding friendship, I opened an email from her but addressed to her husband and mistakenly sent it to me. I was confused, and the confusion only grew as I read the contents of the email. It was an angry tirade about a Walmart employee who had made a simple mistake. My new friend used expletives that I had never heard her use. Her anger seemed out of proportion, and she even threatened to call management and possibly sue the store. I was stunned! Was this the same lady who had just brought over blueberry muffins the week before? I realized this message was sent to me by accident, deleted it, and tried to believe that this was an outlier incident.

But it wasn’t. Within a few more months, other similar incidents happened, and this time her anger was directed towards me and my family. It got ugly quickly, and my husband and I decided, with prayer, that it was in all our best interests to end the friendship peacefully and go our separate ways.

We all have ways we want to be perceived by others, it’s the ideal version of ourselves. I want others to perceive me as friendly, joyful, and a good listener. I pray that they actively see Christ working in me. This is what psychiatrist Carl Jung referred to as our ego. Yet, I can be distracted, and am sometimes irritable and talk more than I listen. This unpleasant version of Sherry most often appears within the four walls of my home in front of the people I love the most. Carl Jung refers to this as our shadow side.

Recently, I heard writer John Mark Comer talk about this ego and shadow side in the context of Christianity. It’s good to pursue Godly character, to cultivate goodness, patience, gentleness, and joy in life. But often, our true nature, our shadow side comes out. We are humans and make choices that don’t always align themselves with Christ. And often this is the side we try to hide from others. Comer went on to say that the most integrated people are those who have the least amount of difference between their ego and shadow side. They are who they present, and they don’t have hidden sides that people would be startled at if they read an unexpected email.

In the case of Punxsutawney Phil, his shadow’s visibility is due to a law of physics. For a shadow to appear, an object needs to come between a light source and a surface. On a cloudy day, with no light, Phil would not see his shadow, thus predicting an early spring. Although physics can explain shadows, they are not often seen as neutral in life. In literature and films, shadows suggest something sinister, while children discovering shadow puppets find shadows humorous and delightful.

In the Bible, the apostle John compares God to being light, “and the light shineth into darkness”. This was more than just a metaphor, seen both when Moses was on Mount Sinai and the mountaintop transfiguration of Jesus. In both cases, the light from God was so blinding that it affected the face of Moses and the clothes of Jesus, reflecting His glory. And this same light continues as I listen to sermons, read His word, spend time in prayer, and meditate on God. And as I see the glory of God, it moves me to sanctification by illuminating the shadows in my life. The more I know God and am in relationship with Him, the more my shadow side is visible. I see where I fall short, where my character is lacking, and where sin has crept into my life.

Recently, I made a dark chocolate cheesecake. The dark cocoa and the melted chocolate are in direct contrast with the pure white cream cheese and sugar. If the cream cheese is not softened well, no matter how well I mix, it is likely that small white chunks of cream cheese will remain when baked. Then when I serve the cheesecake, instead of a uniform creamy chocolate consistency, a person will taste the sharp tang of unmixed cream cheese.

I may have the light of God shining on me, but if I don’t allow humility to soften my heart, that shadow side will dominate. I am not likely to send an email filled with expletives, but I can still be sharp with unkindness and unloving behavior. And to be humble, I must be focused on God and less on my own image. Theologian Timothy Keller defines humility this way: “I cannot feel superior to anyone, and yet I have nothing to prove to anyone. I do not think more of myself nor less of myself. Instead, I think of myself less.”

God is exactly who He said he would be. James records in 1:16-17, “Do not be deceived my beloved brothers. Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.” And although I will never be perfectly like God, I can allow His light, coupled with my humility and my pursuit of Him, to help me become more like Him.