Standing in the Gap

This week at church our head pastor gave a sermon on prayer.  He talked about how prayer can and does change things.  As Christians, we believe that there is power in prayer.  We can intercede on people’s behalf and pray for them.  I have experienced the power of prayer in an extreme way in the last year, and certainly the last few months and weeks.  The power of those prayers have changed me. Pastor Jacob said that our prayers are like ‘standing in the gap’ for others.  I have used that very same phrase to describe how it has felt receiving the prayers and presence of my loved ones recently. I would love to begin to share some of my ‘stand in the gap’ moments.  

 It has been 7 weeks since my mom passed away. That number seems so small and yet so large. Just two weeks after my daughter, Eliza Hope, was born I got a call that my mother had suffered what they thought to be a stroke.  A few days later, it was confirmed she would likely need assisted living moving forward. A day or two to follow, it was confirmed that the effects of the stroke had continued to worsen and she would not make it.  My father and older sister let me and my other siblings know that we had about a week before she would pass.  We all began to make arrangements to journey to say our goodbyes. 

March 17. A date marked out in time forever. The day I found out my mother would pass. That morning, I woke up and I remember sleepily passing by my nightstand and realizing I had a dream she had died. I knew in my bones that call was coming.  

March 20.  Another date marked out in time. The day my mom went to be with Jesus. Surrounded by her husband and four children, just an hour after I arrived…she waited till we had all made it by her side, and then after her youngest said goodnight and left…as the rest of us shared memories of growing up and singing and humming ‘His Eye is on the Sparrow’ and ‘Hymn of Promise’….she slipped away to be with Jesus.  I was the last to leave the room…I was also the last to arrive, so I’m sure I just needed a little more time.  I wanted to memorize her. Take in all of who she was.  Slowly breathe in the complicated nature of our relationship the last 7 years as her health had declined. Slowly breathe in the beautiful best friend she had been to me my whole life.  Slowly breathe in the ways we argued and the ways we made each other laugh.  Slowly breathe in the things that made my eyes roll…and the things that made her infuriated. The things within me that were exactly like her and the ways I had grown into my own person. The things that made us both immeasurably proud of each other.  Those things are eternal. Like her spirit, they are always with me. Once experienced and lived out, each moment of our life exists around us, it stays within the universe forever.  I sat there with her a little longer because I needed to soak in our relationship here on Earth one last time and acknowledge that I would now say, ‘hello’, to a new relationship with her in life beyond death.  I spoke the 23rd Psalm over her body and left the room. I’d now stepped through an experience we are all assured…our parents will eventually pass.  

March 27.  A third date marked out in time.  The day we celebrated my mom’s life and buried her remains. Many years before, on my first day of college I called my mom to tell her that I had just gotten sick and wasn’t sure I could go to my first class. As my mom listened she assured me that I could go to class I said, “But, mom, did you not hear me?  I just threw up!”  Her reply, “Yes, Regina Gail, I did hear you and you can go to class. You do this every time you’re afraid of something new. Every new school. Every big event. You get sick.”  I was taken aback because even I had never noticed this within myself.  My mother had.  March 27th was no different.  I woke up unsure I could even get in the car to make it to the church. I knew I would get sick.  And then I heard, “Yes, Regina Gail. You do this every time you’re afraid of something new. Don’t be afraid.”  

As we stepped through the funeral and burial there is so much I could reflect on.  That my husband’s family had all driven across the southeast to stand in the gap for me and say, ‘we’ve got you.’ That four of my dearest friends did the sameThat my mother in law had been Jesus in living form to me through the entire process of her passing. Each time I turned around, I saw one of my people calmly standing as if to say, “We’ve got you. We’re standing in the gap.”  My teeny tiny four week old Eliza, slept most of the day.  Toward the end of the visitation I tried to wake her to feed her before the service began.  Right as I sat down and the funeral service began, she woke up and immediately spit up everywhere. (Life is never a picture of perfection.) As Jeff began to walk out with her, my dear friend Brittany scooped her up returning Jeff to his seat.  She was standing in the gap.  

As we drove up to the burial site, I knew Eliza would wake again to feed at some point, so I wore my nursing cover to the plot and sat down.  And, just as I suspected, as my mom was buried, Eliza awoke to eat. I wasn’t upset or flustered, just calmly began to nurse and rock her.  As I sat there holding and feeding this brand new life, I watched as the one who did the very same for me was laid to rest.  I watched as several of her grand babies, including my oldest daughter, laid flowers in the ground with her.  My mind was so quiet and simultaneously noisy and full that when the pastor told us that the service was complete, I did not know what to do.  I sat there for what felt like hours, but was only minutes. As I stood up, I figured everyone was gone, but as I turned around...off at a distance were my four friends...standing in the gap.  They asked if I needed more time and took Eliza so I could have a moment alone. 

I sat back down next to my little brother, while my oldest sister and niece sat behind us. My little brother turned on a piece of instrumental music that was playing as she passed away. I closed my eyes and silently began to cry trying to take in that this was real and once I got up the moment was passed. You only bury your parent once. 

Just after turning 35, holding my 4 week old baby, I had just buried my mom.  I wanted so badly for someone to say, ‘I know how you feel. I’ve been there. Here is what you do now.’  But, who has been here?  Still in the healing of labor, feeling depleted and drained from lack of sleep and now, high on the adrenaline of loosing the one who gave you life.  I needed to make peace with this moment being real...I needed to make peace with this moment passing.  When I opened my eyes I looked to the right of my mom’s grave and saw the next plot over.  “Regina ‘Jimmie’ Crouch.”  My grandmother who I was named after. It struck me. There was one woman who knew exactly how I felt.  I wasn’t sure how I hadn’t connected the dots until now. My mother.  At 36, holding me, her 6 week old, buried her mother in this exact same spot.  She knew every bit of what I had been feeling.  Her feet had stood on this ground. Her tears were soaked up in the ground beneath me.  And I have never felt more seen by her in my entire life.  

She never told me what that felt like. And I never asked. What did it feel like to be so young, and newly postpartum and grieve your mother?  All she ever recalled were the facts.  She had a dream the night before she found she had passed.  She was 36. I was six weeks old. And she flew on a plane to celebrate the life of her mother.  She would often say I was her joy amidst a sad time.  And that was it, it always seemed a sweet, simple statement. Now I know the depths of it.  I don’t know if the events of the day for her looked like what mine did.  But what I do know is that there is a piece of Earth in Hollywood, SC where we have both stood, straddling very strangely between new life and new death and we have both shed tears. My mother stood in the gap for me the day of her funeral.  And in the loneliest moments of my grief to follow, I continue to hear her voice say, “Don’t be afraid, Regina Gail.  You can move through this.  I’ve been there too.”  

A Step Back...to Learn a Story

I think it’s important to know someone and their story in order to truly understand how they have come to believe what they do.  There have been so many things happening in our country at warp speed that my brain has barely had time to process.  What I’ve been able to process are these words I hold dear to my heart: “God who knows our hearts and weighs our souls, knows we know and holds us responsible to Act.”-Proverbs 24:12.  For better or for worse these words are tattooed on my wrist as a reminder that, I believe God has called me to a life of action.  To seek justice, love mercy and walk humbly with God.  Love, compassion, conviction—these “feelings” are all, in fact, actions.  But, goodness knows we’ve seen that many of us carry different ideas of how these feelings should be acted out deep within us.

I thought I would take a step back.  I’ve noticed the friends who believe differently than I do when I see them in public...I've seen their body language change when we’re together, and even….seen the friends slowly unfriending me.  I’ve been guilty of it too…in person, my body tenses up…online, my fingers get excited and click ‘unfollow’ at an exorbitant rate. Now—it’s Facebook—it’s a social media world…it’s not truly reality.  And truly…mind are not changed by my posts or yours. But, the culture we’ve created leads one to feel sad when the ‘unfriend’ button is clicked.  There’s also nothing more real than the body language between two people when you know you fall on different ends of the spectrum on these very deeply rooted issues and each one is nervous to engage in conversation…so you just remain silent and slowly…the friendship looses some layers.  Believe it or not…this is happening right now.  Not just to me…I see it happening to other friends and family as well.  Division…with each change…with each refresh of our homepage.

Now…for the step back…it’s dawned on me that perhaps people don’t know me well enough to know why so many of these issues might cut as deeply as they do. AND I don't entirely know why others think as they do either...but I can only start with me. I know merely saying, “I’m a follower of Jesus” does not transcend to all sides…those disillusioned to church certainly don’t get that and those who are Christians who fall on the opposite end of the spectrum do not necessarily hear that either.  SO…Let me introduce myself. 

I was born Regina Gail Rigney.  To two parents from rural South Carolina, just outside of Charleston.  Both of my parents were professional musicians and eventually my father went into the United States Air Force and my mother became a Church Choir Director and Head of Christian Education primarily working in The United Methodist Church.  I was born on the island of Guam where I lived till I was 2 and then moved to Italy where I lived till I was 6.  I never even lived in the U.S. till I was in the 1st grade! I only lived in the U.S. for 2 1/2 years before moving back overseas to Panama where I lived till I was 10.  In Panama, I served people within the community living in poverty alongside my mother and took Typical Panamanian Dance lessons.  I moved to rural Alabama for one year, following my fathers retirement and then moved to New Orleans, LA where my family still lives.  I grew up attending Isidore Newman School, a college preparatory school that was initially founded as a Manual Training School for Jewish Orphans in 1903.  About 40% of the students I attended school with were Jewish.  Upon graduating high school I attended two universities, Belmont University in Nashville and Oklahoma City University both of which were Christian affiliated.  I completed my Bachelors of Music in Musical Theatre and Dance and attended two years of Seminary and worked as a Junior High Youth Minister before moving to Los Angeles where I danced in a Modern Ballet Company and served LOTS and I mean LOTS of tables.  I also did some time serving at an orphanage in Sierra Leone, West Africa and helped to start an non-profit called Firefleyes building creative arts rooms and providing creative arts and sports components for already established orphanages. Upon moving back to Nashville, for a short time, I worked for a non-profit as a Volunteer Coordinator working with the unhoused community and finally settled into being a Children’s Ministry Director.  I met and married my awesome husband, native to Tennessee, and moved into his house in rural Tennessee.  I served at a church a short time where I was quickly let go for many reasons that seemed to be pointed strongly at the fact that I was a new mother.  Currently, I am working as an Administrative Assistant at a large church outside of Nashville and I am finishing my Masters in Religion and beginning the Ordination process in the United Methodist Church with hopes of working in missions and outreach and congregational care. AND…I have, who I believe to be, the cutest and smartest 17 month old ever. :-)  You may think…what does that matter right now??  I think it matters a lot.  Potentially, you know more about the experiences I might have had that have shaped my views to lean very heavily on care for the outcast (ie refugees), you might know why I feel strongly about rights for all people (including the LGTBQ community)…living in rural Tennessee you can see how I might be around a good amount of people who think differently than I do.  Seeing as I am seeking ordination and the UMC has only ordained women for 50 years maybe sheds insight into why I might feel strongly about women’s rights.  Since I grew up at a Jewish affiliated school, with friends whom I love dearly who are Jewish, you may know why I could have been DEEPLY offended by the Holocaust Remembrance Day speech that lumped all those effected into some crock pot, as if everyone was just as effected as our Jewish brothers and sisters and why I believe this to be another example of belittling a group of people our society as deemed as "other."   Knowing that I held dying babies in Africa sheds a piece of insight into why hearing stories of refugee families with no place to go shatters my heart and has led me to be staunchly against this ban.  Serving alongside my mother as a 9 year old in Panama shapes my desire for people to know that no matter who are or what you believe or how uncomfortable it makes me…I desire to show you God’s love and for you to know that you are always welcome in my home...even if we think differently. AND…knowing that I grew up as the child of a United States Air Force Officer perhaps helps you know that I do, in fact, care about this country. But, I do not believe myself to be first a U.S. citizen, or a Republican or Democrat…I’m first and foremost a follower of Jesus Christ….and I’m doing the best I can in a space and time where there are heart breaking, earth shattering things occurring. 

I’ll take a step forward and say that I think we all need to take a step back and look at one another’s stories.  We will never understand each others perspectives if we just press the unfollow button or the unfriend button and allow ourselves to be covered in our own bubbles once more.  I’ve seen lots of posts saying “Can we all just go back to pictures of babies and puppies.”  The answer is….no (though don’t worry…I’ll still post plenty of baby pictures, hah)  There is too much going on right now that MATTERS and the stakes are too high…  EVEN if you agree with the POTUS and his administration…you cannot deny the division around us.  And a mere eye roll is not going to fix it.  Love. Understanding. Brutally Hard Conversations, RECONCILIATION.  These are the things that are going to fix it.  And, yes, my friends…ACTION.  People stating their opinions.  No, social media is NOT the correct forum to CHANGE someone else's minds…but it is a means with which to put out what you strive to be about.  Real life conversations can and should be prompted by those posts but…we have to be willing to do more than give awkward body language…we have to be willing to engage…in love and respect.  Love and respect, rooted in a space where we MUST assume our FRIENDS to be coming from a good place.  Let’s look at our friends stories (PLEASE share yours with me!) before we start slicing and dicing our village….that’s the kind of division that will actually build a wall.  A free one. 

I lift My Voice...

When I was in the sixth grade I came home and asked my mom if racism still existed.  Now, you may question whether I had been living under a rock or not…and you’d be right in a sense.  

I grew up in a Military family and lived outside of the U.S. until age 6.   By age 11, in 1997, I had only lived in the U.S. for 2 1/2 years of my life.  Now, I was well aware of other issues at play in our world.  My eyes were opened to extreme poverty living in Panama and I stepped through Desert Storm as a young child in Italy.  But, in the fifth grade I gave a speech for Black History Month where I celebrated the accomplishments of Oprah Winfrey and Marian Anderson (the first black opera singer to sing at The Met)….my brain truly believed racism was a thing I studied in history books and celebrated the divide we had bridged in school assemblies.  

In sixth grade I found myself living in Alabama.  My father had recently retired from the military and I was the “new girl” in school.  I was describing “my old friends” with a friend one day (as the new girl typically does) and mentioned that my friend Tasha would probably come to visit.  My friend said, “Is Tasha black? That sounds like a 'black' name.”  The answer was, ‘yes’, but that fact seemed irrelevant and perplexing that it had even been asked.  I answered his question and he said, “Well, I can’t hang out with her then.”  My brain quickly did the math to realize I had encountered real life racism for the first time.  

When I came home to my mother, I had been processing all day.  I didn’t understand.  My heart was hurt.  Full of questions.

I’m not sure my mother realized just how sheltered I had been...growing up in rural South Carolina in the 50's and 60's she knew first hand what segregation looked like...but the language of division or 'us and them' had never been used in our home.  She quickly acknowledged and affirmed the reality I lived until this point was a blessing and that racism was a present reality.  We sat down and decompressed the conversation that had happened earlier.  And we discussed how I might respond when I encountered something like that in the future.  

We soon moved from Alabama to New Orleans….and although much more of a melting pot and although I went to an amazing school with an incredible number of people who exposed me to different cultures, races and religions…I was surrounded by affluence. I was surrounded by opportunity.  And thankfully, I was surrounded by acceptance.  The social and racial divide in Greater New Orleans, however, is daunting and, to be blunt, in your face.  If I thought I encountered racism in small town Alabama….I uncovered a very real, present-day problem for our culture.   (This is in no way a knock against either state….for I have dear friends from Alabama still and New Orleans is the hometown I dearly love.)

Now, even with these experiences I’ve always thought that racism and segregation were still not as bad as they used to be.  Can I say how ridiculous it is that essentially that previous statement means, “Well….atleast we’re not AS racist as we USED to be?”  Disgusting.  Unacceptable.  And furthermore, I’ve found my ignorance in the recent continued shootings spraying across our country, for I thought there were far more people of acceptance in this country than there truly are………..racism between black and white, gay or straight, Muslim or Christian, housed and unhoused, mentally ill and not.  This list goes on.  And my heart aches.  Merely putting a hashtag and the city or the group of people I’m praying for does not cut it anymore.  I’ll still be praying….but I lift my voice to say I want to create change.  I lift my voice to say we can’t stand for racism ANYMORE.  I lift my voice to say this country should be about love and we should DEMAND that.  Because I believe our children will grow up in a world where racism is a thing of the past….in history books….where we say, “we were WRONG THEN and we embrace HUMANITY NOW.”  I believe we are in the midst of a great shift in our country....and I lift my voice to say I am a person of love and acceptance, with the deeply rooted belief that God's love will conquer the hatred and separation in our midst.

Love has to speak out to be heard over the triggers and venomous words inundating our country.  I lift my voice. And my fervent prayer is that you will too.  

Results--Tales of a Mom in Ministry

I've now been a mommy for 10 months!  As a dancer and yoga enthusiast I was anxious to get back to working out.  Life as a mom, and certainly three months in as a working mom, left much less time for this than I originally anticipated.  And quite honestly, I wasn’t entirely motivated to work out at all.  

My first few months back to work feel a blur. BUT…I do know that from time to time I would race to the gym for thirty minutes before time to pick my daughter up from school. I found myself incredibly frustrated that so many of my post pregnancy comrades seemed to be shedding their baby weight so quickly….while I stayed in the exact same place.  It drove me crazy I that was not seeing results. 

Since April I’ve been going to spin classes twice a week.  And a month ago I added a Weight Training class…nothing crazy….it’s jazzercise with weights, to be honest.  Every week I step on the scale and there I sit….coasting at the exact same number I saw on the scale 6 weeks postpartum.  Seriously?  For a dancer and performer minded human this could not be more frustrating.  I don’t eat terribly and I drink a gallon of water daily.  I have all the ingredients for success.  What gives?  

Who knows….but I stopped trying to figure it out and started praying that God would help me to be confident and happy where I am.  Now….I’ve been praying for this mindset shift for a few months now…and I’ve gotten really good at pretending I’m cool with it all…but the other night a game changer occurred. 

I tend to pray a lot while I work out….pray that I actually make it out alive, haha…but mostly, it’s a great tool to quiet my mind.  Working out has always been a way for me to find Sabbath and rest…even in the midst of exerting energy. Two days ago I got to spin class a bit early…as I slowly pedaled I took a deep breath and all of a sudden I thought, “I really feel great. Genuinely great.”  Not just physically, but emotionally.  It’s been 10 months since I felt anywhere close to my old self.  I’ve felt glimpses of it here and there…but  in that moment I truly felt my spirit lift. As I started to pedal faster and faster I could feel that workout adrenaline beginning to climb.  I felt God’s presence and I thought, “you don’t do this for results.  You do this to be faithful.”  I said it again in my head.  “You don’t do this for results. You do this to be faithful.”  

My eyes began to tear a little and a I began to smile.  I pedaled faster and stronger for the rest of class than I ever have.  

I don’t work out to loose baby weight.  I work out to be strong, healthy, to quiet my mind, to gain energy to give to my family and my life.  I work out to be faithful to the body I have been given.  This phrase hit me as hard as it did because honestly the same can be said for so many things.  I am not Evelyn Mae’s mom because I expect results….yes, it’s a byproduct at times…but through out her life I will not always see positive results…I’ll continue to love her and be there, however, because I am faithful.  Marriage isn’t always filled with those fluttery butterflies but I am Jeff’s wife always because I am faithful.  And I didn’t walk in to ministry because I expected to see results.  I walked in to ministry because God asked me to and I am faithful.  This may be the biggest, hugest realization for me.  Perhaps a 'no brainer' to everyone else in ministry….but I am learning that being faithful doesn’t always produce a positive outcome.

Much like my frustration on the scale, recently I experienced a situation where I was rejected in ministry.  The kind of rejection where even after you sit back and look at all your ingredients you still go, “How did this happen?”  I think I always thought you could see a successful ministry by your results and I’m learning that some times you have to remind yourself that we’re in ministry because we’re being faithful to God…not for any tangible results we may see. 

The question has been asked, “Will you continue in ministry?”  

The answer is simply, “DUH.” ;-)

I felt The Holy Spirit ask me to journey in to ministry when I was 16 and I began working in full time ministry when I was 22….because I am rejected once does not mean I run….anywhere.  Especially when I feel confident in my heart that I was being faithful to God.   And just because I don’t see the number I used to on the scale doesn’t mean my working out is in vain.  Great is thy Faithfulness, Oh God.  I will keep going to the gym.  And I will keep serving God. Why?  Because, God’s hold on my life is greater than a scale and it’s certainly greater than the rejection of a few.  

It Takes A Village...

9 weeks ago Jeff and I gave birth to our first child, Evelyn Mae.  We call her “Evie Mae” for short.  She is a delight.  She’s patient, observant and a bit of a mama's girl…with each big smile and attempt to make small noises I can tell the moment she’s able she’ll be running full speed ahead.  Every time she develops a new “motor skill” I jokingly say, “do you think you’re already off to college?”  Man, being a parent is the best.  But…there are days…there are moments…that are hard.  For all you parents out there I don’t have to embellish on this statement.  The tiredness that comes with a newborn is to the bones...and although each moment is beyond words worth it…you some times need a breather.  I have to ask for help.  I’m still not so great at this.  But the simplest things seem impossible without an extra set of hands… I say this at 9 weeks and I know come 2 years I’ll have way more to say…if we add another kiddo in to the mix I’m sure I’ll have more on top of that…but at 9 weeks, this is what I know and I can say…parents are superheroes…and a side kick and then some sure makes a difference. (I'm so glad for my "sidekick and then some.")

At 6 weeks we made our way to church for the first time. We had a bunch of family in town and so we decided to go to my brother-in-law’s Preview Service for his church plant, The Village UMC.  At the end of the service we were all given $5 and challenged to take our money and multiply it in some way to benefit our community.  The only catch was…the money could not come back to the church.  Anyone who knows me knows I love a good challenge…I like to do things big.  We were asked to spend the first while in prayer, then come up with a plan for the money, execute our mission and come back in a month with our stories.  We did a similar project at Brentwood UMC when I worked there and, at the time, my project prompted travels to Sierra Leone, West Africa marking a life changing chapter in my world.  I was PUMPED to pray and see what God would reveal this time.  I prayed.  I fell asleep while praying.  I prayed some more.  I prayed for sleep…oh, wait…I’m praying about a project.  What to do with this money?  It needed to be something GOOD!  Something BIG!  

We came up with a project to raise money for 10 Winter Sleeping Bags and 10 Tarps for the unhoused community for Open Table Nashville.  Jeff and I are both huge advocates for the work this non profit does and we were excited to watch our money grow.  We would need $700.  So far we’ve raised $200.  One would think THAT IS AWESOME! WOW…$200 from $5, what a gift.  And, I have been excited, but in the back of my mind I’ve been thinking…but it needs to be more…it needs to be bigger.  

About a week ago I was at my friends house and I was talking to her mom about this project and other mission projects I had undertaken in the past…I told her I just wasn't quite sure when God would lead me to my next big thing….she laughed and she said, “Regina…you’ve said all of this to me while you are bouncing and calming your very biggest thing.”  Oh….my daughter, you mean???  Oh geez, I’m short sighted…back to praying I go…”God, help me see the big picture.”

On my way home today I stopped by Starbucks to see our Uncle T and he asked about our project.  He started talking about all of the other projects folks were doing and *wam*, there was my short sightedness again smacking me in the face.  You see…my $5 was not the only $5 given out on that day…and my $200 is not the only money raised.  This isn’t a Girl Scout Cookie Sales Competition… it’s not about the amount…it’s about the trust we put in God to do big things with our one small part.   I’m one small piece of God’s puzzle and together with OTHERS great work will be done.  

It brought me back to my struggles as I have begun to enter motherhood.  I have a hard time when what I do isn’t the biggest or the grandest of adventures…I have a hard time when my house isn’t Pinterest perfect and the meals aren’t always homemade and I can’t clean that bathroom, fold that laundry, bounce my baby and empower the orphan in Africa too.  It’s only been 9 weeks…can anyone tell I majored in Theatre in college?...thank goodness God loves me :-)  

But seriously, I need to come clean that this is what God is doing in my heart right now.  God is showing me that much of what I think matters…doesn’t.  I preach it...but it's time to live in to it a bit more.  The biggest isn’t always the grandest…most of the time the biggest thing we can do may seem to be the smallest.  It’s the 9 pound baby I hold as I type that I get to watch grow in to a beautiful woman of God. She doesn’t care about all the big things…she just wants to be covered in love.  

And $5 turning in to $200 is enormous and just because it doesn’t manifest in launching a non profit doesn't mean I’ve missed the mark.  Because…it isn’t just about me, my gifts and my efforts…there are others around me ready to lend a hand, ready to bounce a baby, ready to multiply their $5, add it in with mine and we will love up a community together.  Nothing is ever fun or fruitful alone….it definitely takes…a village.  

Dear God,  Help me to know when I need to ask for help.  Help me to trust the journey you have me on.  I need naught worry about creating the biggest or the best because you have already done that.  Help me to gather those around me to celebrate the giftedness of community.  Lord, you say where two or more are gathered there worship will be...I am not a singular unit...forgive me of my short sightedness as I strive to love better each day. Amen. 

Teach me to Forgive

In recent months I have been learning a lot about being a better friend.  Not that I think I was an awful friend before necessarily, but I have come upon circumstances where I have been challenged to love better.  

Forgiveness is one of the hardest things to learn.  Although, from a young age one of the first things we learn how to do is say, “I’m sorry.”  Somehow, as we get older these simple words become harder and harder to utter.  Not only is it hard to say, but it’s hard to accept. 

But, as Christians, we believe that forgiveness and grace are available to us always.  Grace, meaning the unmerited favor of God…we didn’t have to do anything to get this love and forgiveness.  Christians believe we are to strive to show this same grace and forgiveness in our own relationships. 

I’ve gotten the being willing to say, ‘I’m sorry’, thing down (obviously, I still mess up from time to time)…but the forgiveness…well, I kinda suck at this.  I’m certainly not near as good at it as I need to be.

I went to a music concert the other night and like a series of events that only God can orchestrate they sang a few songs through out the night that knocked me down a bit. 

Mostly based off of scripture, one song went, “Time is a thing we can’t recreate…can’t bottle it up for a later date…teach me to number my fleeting days.”  What are you spending your days doing, Regina?  Judging people and their choices, refusing to forgive a friend?  Who do I think I am sometimes?  Hmm…learning to number the beautiful days given to me.  I need to soften my heart. 

The next song really drove it home, “ True love has no defense, it cannot stay at an arms length or sit on the fence.  It knows it’s closest friends will betray and it stands by them faithfully anyway…Love is patient, it holds on tight, holds on tight when the train derails…love will never give up.”   “It’s not keeping track of who’s winning, who’s lost or who's scored…true love is kind.”  Woah...I need to forgive better. 

My eyes were covered in tears.  Even when we’re wronged by a friend…it is our job to find forgiveness…and because we love them, we have to strap on that seat belt and go for the bumpy ride…friendship is not a scoreboard.  I’m not sure why I understand that for my marriage but the friendship part doesn’t always check in.  

I want to be a better friend.  I want to forgive more.  Love more.  Judge Less.  Put down my scoreboard.  Get off the fence and stand faithfully rooted in an understanding of true grace.  

Gates of Charity Close?

When the Church stops being the Church.

I watched a video on Tent City, an un-housed community here in Nashville, a few months back.  A pastor spoke out about allowing the members of this community to remain within his community, although temporary, stating “at some point the gates of charity have to close.”  Hearing this and even thinking about it makes me sick.  It’s statements like this that bastardize the church and create a bad taste in the mouths of many towards Christianity. 

Unconditional love we preach.  As a Methodist Open hearts, open minds, open doors….we exclaim.  But we for sure draw a line.  All churches do, really. 

We’re all guilty of it, myself included.  I could go off on the fact that we should be following Jesus...a  man who called us to get our hands dirty, follow unconditional love, stop being so narcissistic and focussing on our own four walls and our own programming development…but for today I’m going to vent about a specific situation where the gates of charity close and we start to operate as a business as opposed to a community of faith.

My mother began working for the Methodist Church when she was fourteen…probably even sooner…but that’s the earliest I remember her talking about having a job.  She became her small churches choir director in the country of Charleston, SC.  She got her degree in Music Education and Vocal Performance and continued working for larger churches, developing their choral programs. Not only was she a member of Charleston Opera Company, a soloist performer all over town, she worked at different churches around Charleston during her early career. As time went on she and my father traveled across the globe as a military family.  Each church my mom began attending she quickly stepped in to the role of Director of Music and Christian Education.  She built music programs in churches from the ground up on Guam, in Italy, Panama, California to name a few.  She was a rock star.  Musicals, Cantatas, Symphonies, Volunteer Trainings, Sunday School Curriculums…you name it I grew up watching my mom do it.  To say that who I am and the desires of my heart to use my love of dance and music in the church world were shaped by my mom would be an understatement.  Through out most of my childhood she showed me how it was done. 

On August 2 my mother will have been sick in the hospital for exactly a month.  We’re honestly not sure what is wrong.  She’s gotten better in many regards, but something is still neurologically off.  I’ve learned through various experiences that when we find ourselves in prolonged illnesses that while we sit in a hospital bed, unfortunately the world does turn on.  Days go by, experiences happen…life keeps going.  It’s harsh, but real.

My father got a call today stating that the church my mother has worked for the past 14 years has decided after one month that they will be rehiring someone in her place.  Now, there are lots of logical reasons behind this decision.  A Church is, afterall, a business at the end of the day.  Programs continue and need developing.  Children still need Sunday School Teachers to be trained….but it raises my eyebrow and makes me wonder…

After 14 years, more hours worked above and beyond what my mother’s paycheck was and the call of duty, many overworked weeks and weekends later, many job responsibilities well outside her job description later…she is left unemployed.  Now, I understand the rationale behind the decision and I know the United States is so great and has lots of resources to help in situations like this…that is not the point at all…the point is…what is the church?  What is it supposed to be?  I’m not going to answer the question…I’m only going to say…I think at some point some people think the gates of charity close and I think those people give the church a terrible name.  That’s a name I wont ever be a part of. 

And the Wind Died Down

So, I lost favorite child status today.  You laugh, but in a family with four children there is always the running joke of who the favorite child is at that moment. 

It reminds me of a little plaque I bought my mom for Christmas one year.  It was this wooden red apple that read “Please be Patient and take a number” with four numbers attached to its stem.  I wrote a little card alongside it telling my mom this might help her quiet us down when we all spoke over one another.

Any multi-sibling household is constantly full of noise, arguments, competition, jokes and mayhem and chaos. :-) 

As I sit in the hospital with my mama it’s made me think a lot about my childhood.  Nostalgia goes hand in hand with taking care of loved ones.  I’ve thought about when you scrape your knee and your mom cleans the wound.  Of when you and your older brother get in to a fight over the remote and she sends you to your room.  Of when your little brother gets caught doing Power Ranger Karate on you and strangling you in the living room…..errr…umm…was this only my family? 

It’s made me think about how life is a journey.  A journey we don’t get to stop.  We’re constantly walking whether we like it or not.  No amount of hoping for a moment to breath will change the fact that life keeps turning, years keep going by…and it’s our job what we do with those moments, how we take care of ourselves and who we spend those moments with.  Our actions always have a reaction.

Last night my little brother and I spent the night taking care of our mom.  Until around 2:00 my little brother and I stood on either side of our mom and helped keep her calm. Around 2:30 she began to calm down and we both lay down by her bed.  About an hour later we woke up to help calm her again.  But something happened…my little brother jumped up before me as I said, “You got it, Jim?”  He nodded.  I watched him take great care of my mom and every now and again I would get up and help him.  Around 5:00 he looked at me and said “Were you able to get a little sleep?”  My heart smiled.  The little boy who was caught strangling me, pouring milk in my hair, putting vinegar in my apple juice (both bothers get credit for this), and my ever favorite cutting my ponytail straight off my head before my sixth grade year had stood by my mom that much longer trying to allow me to get a bit more sleep.

 

Life is a journey.  Relationships change.  Roles change.  Favorite child status changes day to day ;) We are fearfully and wonderfully made.  God knows our every move and thought and desires for us to experience each moment and treat ourselves kindly.  We don’t get any moment back. 

My prayer today is obviously healing for my mama and rest for my families minds and spirits.  But it’s also for you: wherever you are, that you remember each moment we walk through is just that…a passing moment.  I hope you are surrounded by and doing the things you love and believe to be God’s best for you.  Because either way…time keeps going.  There’s no need to be afraid either way. You might as well live in to the joy we were created to experience.  

“Take courage it is I! Do not be afraid.  Then he climbed in the boat with them and the wind died down.”  Mark 6:50-51

Perspective

So, I’ve been doing this 30 Day Yoga Challenge. Each day I have come to my mat with a different perspective.  I don’t want to be here…I’m so mad we’re doing another flow…Gosh this feeling is amazing…ouch I hurt.  But, each class I have tried to come back to my breath.  Come back to fully taking in the experience and walking away with a new perspective. 

  A few days ago I took two classes almost back to back.  My second class was a silent class and with the sound of each buzzer we were to change poses.  Now, I am not too big on silence…I’ve had to train myself to find solitude and it’s benefits…but…I was up for the challenge.  Two minutes in to class I hear this loud grunting behind me.  My focus was taken back to an elderly gentleman behind me.  I wanted to stay focused, so I quickly turned my gaze back to one inch above my mat.  Through out class my silence was broken by this gentleman making struggling sounds…sighs of pain.  It was at this moment I really saw perspective.  From his view he felt defeat, struggle, anger, force, perhaps judgement…but from my view all I felt was love, understanding.  I wanted so badly to put my hand over his heart and tell him to let his body be for awhile…perhaps it wouldn’t fight against him.

You know, I think our lives some times are like a hot yoga class.  Finding peace under stressful circumstances…that we have often times inflicted upon ourselves.  I walked in to this hot room.  I asked to sweat my pants off.  So why am I so angry at my teacher for asking me to hold a pose for thirty more seconds?  And why do we have such a hard time allowing ourselves to sit and be still? 

If the older gentleman behind me had just taken a moment and allowed his body to sit…lay… breathe…he would have gained that much more from his experience.  But instead…he decided to push through.

I have the tendency to push through.  I’ve noticed a lot of my twenty-something year old friends are trying to push through.  We want to get it right.  We want to be successful.  We’re go-getters, so we're pushing our way to the top no matter the struggle…and perhaps feeling like we're struggling to make life work.  But, I wonder…what if we just laid in a neutral position for a second…took the time to breathe in and exhale…would our life fall in to place?  Would our bodies allow us to move in to the next pose instead of feeling like we have to force it? 

This obviously goes against the grain of what we’re told.  “Fight your way to the top!”  “Never, never give up!”  “Keep pressing forward against all odds!”  But what if we could find peace through adversity?  What about taking time to exhale?  What about allowing our hard work to lead us to our goal rather than forcing our goal to happen? 

Maybe all we really need to do is exhale. 

Good Intentions

I sat down this morning to my cup of coffee and began to journal.  I kept thinking about Intentions.  And as I began to write...I thought...I think I've written about this before. Hah, sure enough...my second trip to Sierra Leone...I was thinking about the exact same thing!  I wrote this right after participating in The Raining Season's first feeding program in Kroo Bay.  Kroo Bay was named The Worlds Worst place to live by the United Nations in 2009.  Each time I have gone, there has been a riot of some kind.  But...imagine...hundreds upon hundreds of people breaking out in fights outside the building we were working in...children yelling, crying, bones breaking.  What began as a our efforts to feed children who we met singing, clapping and laughing quickly turned in to mass hysteria.  As I sit two years removed from this experience.  I still haven't learned my lesson on my good intentions.  Sometimes we walk in to a situation and without batting an eye have created...unnecessary drama. Well...anyways...maybe I should listen to my own advice some times :-)  

Good Intentions. In relationships we all have good intentions. There is usually a person in the relationship who means well. Whether it is for better or worse, in an ideal situation, we have the best interest of the person we are relating to at heart. Is this always true? No. But stay with me. I have a friend who has been in a rough place in life recently and I have had the best intentions of being there for them. I felt like they needed someone to be there. They needed a shoulder to cry on. More than that...I wanted to be that person because of how much I care for them. Loving them will help them get through this time, I thought. But what a person actually needs and how we see to fix it are not always the same thing. Did this person need ‘my’ love…maybe…but perhaps there was a deeper need I was not meeting. 

A few days before I left for my trip I ran into a homeless women and her child with Down syndrome. Standing in the cold with no coat, I decided it would help the situation if I were to pull over and give her my coat. The mom promptly told me…I can’t carry any more things, and my daughter will not wear your coat because she does not trust you. My intentions were good. I did not meet their need, this time. 

Which brings me to my next point. Relationships require trust…which requires time. On our way down here a Finish man sat in front of us as we drove to the dock to board the boat to Freetown. He asked me what we were doing and when I told him he said, "you’re only here 9 days? What can you do in nine days but show your face and leave?" I thought, "We sure can do a lot in 9 days, sir!" This all may sound like rambling but inside my head I’m beginning to sort through some questions about relationships. Not only with our loved ones but the broken hearted, the orphaned, the forgotten. You see we can have the best intentions but if we are not feeding the actual need we do no good. If we don’t take the time to ask, "what is it that you need?" we may be trying to build a house on sinking sand. My friend may well have needed me to leave him alone. And rather than assume I could fix the problem with a coat I should have asked the homeless women what I could do for her. Because we can have the best intentions…but when I look at the works of Jesus…he didn’t assume…he got in there and found out what the problem was. And more poignant than that…generally he had TRUST of the people he was relating to.

I see this happening here in Sierra Leone. I see The Raining Season building trust and taking time to address the need they see in front of them before jumping in and fixing the problem they see fit to solve. I see intentionality. They are addressing things from the inside out. They are building relationships one-step at a time. But…simply asking the right questions doesn’t always solve the problem right away either. Nothing is ever easy. 

Today in Kroo Bay…I saw desperation. I’ve seen it before. Last time Beth and I were here we created quite a mob as we past out baby dolls and had to be escorted out with the soccer team barricading around us to keep the children from bombarding us. But today…it was unimaginable. I don’t quite know how you problem solve that. So many variables are involved in the reason why this village lays in the extreme poverty that it does , that all the good intentions in the world will do nothing without a little trial and error. 

We went in today to feed 5000 children! Initially, they were going to bring in 2500 and give them two meals to take to another child. Once we got there…things looked a bit different. We began handing out a plate of rice with a fish sauce and water to each child. As the first group of children finished their meals they were escorted out of the building and the next round of children were going to be brought in. Things began to get a little chaotic, but we got them fed and out. Then…hysteria broke out. We ran out of hot food and were just going to give a bag with 2 cups of rice per child as they came through a line. More and more children and parents began storming the doors of the building. Children began beating each other up. Strangling one another. Pushing, shoving. Crying. As children came through the line we noticed many of them limping and we knew things outside were not going well. They began having us hand out packets of rice through the window because we could no longer safely bring children in to the building. We calmed the crowd down and tried to bring a few children in. As I looked down, a little boy ran by crying and holding his hand tightly…his fingers were broken. Another little girl ran in crying holding her hand tightly and Cari and I ran to see if she was alright…her finger was either sprained or broken as well. With no tape or medical supplies, Cari and I were able to use our pony-tail holders to splint the little girls finger as best we could. 

What do you do when your best intentions begin to create such hysteria that desperately hungry parents and children are hurting one another so severely? How do you problem solve that? What system do you try next? How do you problem solve that according to the context of the culture that you live in? I’ve heard of it being done in other countries…but this is a different relationship, you see…you can’t do things the way you would do them in Nashville, Cambodia, Panama, Russia…it has to be done the Sierra Leonian way. What way is that? How do you help a village voted the World’s Worst place to live?? It goes without saying that it was an incredible blessing that enough money was raised to feed 5000 children. A Feeding Program began today that will continue over the years and, by trial and error, a model will be implemented to help children get a hot meal without being stampeded to the ground. But…how? It wont be done in 9 days time. It will be done by the sustainable presence of organizations like TRS that are willing to move in to the neighborhood. Organizations that are willing to say…this can look differently…organizations that say…Dreams. Spark. Change. I believe we are all in a place to have a sustainable impact in ministries like this…but, if anything, I think we should begin looking at our intentions within our relationships. Are they what the other person needs? Are we building trust? Are we moving in for 9 days, long enough to show our face and then hitting the road? Or are we building sustainable, trusting, meaningful deep relationships where we get to the root of the matter and figure out why God placed us in that person’s life? I’m sure beginning to figure out my place here. No answers yet…but I’ll let you know when I do. Until then...Help me fight to SAVE the ORPHAN! We'll keep trying things till we figure out how to restore God's kingdom together! 

Intentionally and Unconditionally (hah), Regina

When your Coffee Splatters All Over the Sidewalk

Last night I was walking home from work.  I’ve been having a stressful couple of weeks and as I took each step was deep in thought (shocker.)  I looked up just in time to watch as a homeless man ahead of me dumped his coffee all over the sidewalk.  His head shot back in exasperation…and then hung low as he took a deep breath.  He dropped his large backpack and other items in his hands….picked up the empty cup of coffee and began to gather his belongings once more.  I ran straight in to the grocery store on the corner and asked the man at the counter for a cup of coffee.  As the man behind the counter moved at actual snails pace…my exasperation grew…”Come on, dude…I just want to catch this man so I can give him a new cup of joe for gosh sakes.”  As the barista slowly capped the cup and handed me my change…I rushed out to see if the man was still there.   Gone.  I walked around a bit to see if I could find him…but alas, there I stood with a hot cup of coffee for…myself. 

As I went through the rest of my evening I kept seeing that cup of coffee falling to the ground, his hands full of other things.  The exasperation he felt was so real.  End of his rope.  What else happened to him that day…week…month…year…one more thing. 

We feel that a lot don’t we?  That we’re carrying too much…that the one thing we need slips right through our hands. 

Makes me think of a video from the Nooma series the youth pastor Rob Bell put together entitled, Shells.  At the end he describes a trip his family took to the beach.  His boys were running along the shore collecting pieces of shells.  After awhile they caught sight of a huge starfish off in the distance.  Rob Bell’s son went running for it…and became anxious and agitated and when Rob said to son, “What’s the problem? Go get it…it’s right there for you!”  He responded, “I can’t, my hands are filled with shells!”  Fragments of a whole filled his hands and it never occurred to him to drop some to grab the huge beauty in front of him.

Rob Bell talks about how much of a parallel this draws to our lives.  How often am I holding fragments of a whole in my hand…unable to discern what I should relinquish in order to grab hold of the thing Jesus waves right in front of me.  Some of the fragments are beautiful…but what have I said yes to, leaving me saying no to something else? 

You see…I don’t want to drop my coffee on the sidewalk.  I want my hands to be open and free for the big prize.  So…as Jesus did in Mark I’ll go away and pray for awhile…ask God to free up my mind of all the little things that may be wonderful, but leave me unable to say yes to what he wants of me.

Perhaps then I wont be so stressed out J  

Affirm This.

On Saturday I served as a cocktail waitress for an event that cost…well let’s just say…more than my wedding will probably cost.  Hundreds of family members and friends gathered together to lavishly celebrate a birthday.  There was a DJ, dance floor, open bar, buffet of appetizers, buffet of main entrées, coffee bar, desert bar…you name it…they had it.  It was a party I wished I was attending as opposed to serving, for sure! As I went table to table checking on guests, and pushed my way through the crowd to serve trays of drinks I nodded my head to the music and wished I could join everyone on the dance floor.  It was a fun party, but it was a long night.   Their birthday celebration did not end until 1:30, which meant the staff and myself did not leave until 2:45am.  As I bussed all of the tables and began carrying platters back to the kitchen and stacked the dishes by the dish washing station…I noticed him…Emmanuel*, the man who washes all of our dishes.  I've noticed him before.  I've introduced myself, said hello...but much of our interaction has been quick as I've hurried back to my guests. 

As I stacked the dishes in my hands for him to wash, I carried on my usual interaction: smiled and said thank you.  In broken English he hurriedly said, “You’re welcome.”  I couldn’t help but pause for a moment and lock eyes with him.  This sixty something year old man, wrinkles beginning to form around his eyes, sweat gathering on his forehead…I thought to myself…I wonder what his story is.  I wonder if he has a wife waiting at home.  Children?  Grand children?  What did he do before this job?  Has he worked here long?  And then the big question that truly pierced my heart…when was the last time someone affirmed him in his hard work?  The dishes stacked higher and higher and higher…was his heart racing?  Was he wondering when he’d actually get home tonight?  Does this happen most nights?  I turned around and returned to gather more dishes.  By the time I came back the dishes had stacked even higher and as I set my dishes down and began organizing them to make it a little easier on him…my heart had to move a bit…I went around to Emmanuel…placed my hand on his shoulder.  He jumped.  Startled.  I said, “Thank you so much for your hard work.”  And I smiled, locking eyes with him.  He looked at me stunned.  And after a moment.  Said, “Thank you, mi preciosa.”  Now, my thanks did not make Emmanuel’s work load any lighter…my thanks did not do much of anything…some might argue it just made me feel better.  BUT, I would argue…that what it did do was validate Emmanuel and affirm him as a man working by my side.  What it did was make him a real person to me.  And it made me a real person to him.  It put us on an even plane.

There is a huge amount of separation in our culture.  I saw it on perhaps a more exaggerated level when I traveled abroad, but I’m seeing it every day now right here where we live.  How do we bridge the gap?  

Affirmation and validation.  A simple touch.  A simple word of thanks.  A simple word of recognition.  Has the potential to bridge the gap between server and dishwasher…Manager and Employee…Child and Adult…Educated and Less educated…Homeless Man and Businessman.  I’m learning that part of opening our eyes to the need in the world and part of just playing the part of a person here on this planet is to truly look around and see…who am I ignoring…who can I affirm…who can I validate?  It starts here…Affirmation…it paves the way and invites true change to begin to emerge.

Empowering Love

Empowering Love

“Your approval ratings may and will go down…but you are a child of God.”  -Pastor at Reality LA

I’ve been thinking about family a lot lately.  The way families treat one another.  How I treat my family.  Do I exhibit the love to my family that I say I exhibit for humanity?  I don’t think that I do. 

Each person I have in my family is completely different from the next.  I have to accept them all the way that they are…the way that they come.  I looked up the definition of the word acceptance and it said, “And agreement to appreciate, validate, and support who a person or thing is in that moment.” 

But what do we do when we don’t feel that acceptance from our family?  As human beings we all have an innate desire for love and acceptance.  We seek it from our family, our friends, our romantic relationships…our job. The need for love and acceptance comes from our desire for community, fellowship, a place to thrive and find true fulfillment. 

But what happens when the love and acceptance we seek falls lacking in those areas?  I believe we fall prey to feelings of hatred and abandonment.  Lack of acceptance leads to a quest for approval…and a quest for approval from others always leads us down a dark, empty path…because how can you ever rise to expectations some one ELSE has set for you?  How much of what we do is based on gaining acceptance from other people?  And on the opposite side, how much of what we say to others is because we have preconceived notions of how they should be living their own lives?? 

But, if we cannot expect acceptance from those around us…where do we gain it?  Where can we find fulfillment?  All of these thoughts have led me back to God.  What is God like?  What is the nature of God?  Well, the nature of God is love.  The joy and relational aspect of God fulfills an aching, a longing in our heart that no one else’s physical acceptance can fill. 

I believe that when we seek acceptance and approval from others we allow them the opportunity to write our own lives for us.  We play a part that ends up not fulfilling us because…it’s someone else’s part.

It’s always blown my mind that we seek approval from people who are all imperfect themelves.  Or that I come across so many people who presume to know how someone ELSE should live their life…when only one person knows how you should live it…yourself.

As beautiful creations of a God who defines love…WE are enough…WE already have love and acceptance available to us.  We need only breathe it in and say…I will ACCEPT that ACCEPTANCE is already available to me.  I will grasp a hold of Love and say…I don’t need the affirmation of someone else’s love because I already have it in front of me.  The nature of God is love and that very notion enables us to turn away from the need for approval from others and truly be who we were called to be. 

The love I often give my family members is one where I presume to know what they should or should not be doing…and I watch other friends heart broken because of expectations placed on them by people who say they love them…but that type of love is debilitating…that type of love is not accepting.  The type of love God offers to us is POSITIVELY ENABLING…it is ACCEPTING…it is ETERNAL…it moves us FORWARD…it is EMPOWERING. 

What kind of love will I choose to submerse my heart, soul and mind in to?  What kind of love will I challenge myself to give to my family? Certainly not the kind that leaves me or others feeling unfulfilled, not good enough, lacking…as if I am doing something wrong…NO...I will live in to a rich, deep, powerful, gentle love that allows me and invites others to conquer the world and sore.  It’s the type of love that is available to you, to me…to all of us. 

Thank You For Walking this Journey

"Thank you for walking this journey with me."

My dear boyfriend Oliver spoke these words to me as I brushed the back of his neck on my way in to the kitchen.  He lay curled up on the couch and I responded, "Absolutely, my love."  His words were so genuine and heart felt.  The kind of words that carry a thousand other words behind their simplicity.  ....he was thanking me for walking with him as his mother peacefully and beautifully passed away earlier that afternoon.

For the past three months I have watched a man exhibit intense love for the woman who brought him life.  I only hope and pray to have a son one day to express the kind of unconditional love and care that Oliver expressed.  What a testament to the kind of heart my dear Pamela had that she instilled in her sons the gift of compassion...the gift of loyalty...the gift of never giving up on or abandoning the ones they love.  

Oliver, I have watched you for two months sleep by your mother's hospital bed, tirelessly get up to care for your mother, wait around for hours in her room without food for yourself so you could speak to her doctors about her progress, devote each hour of each day to taking care of her affairs, brushing her hair, singing in her ear, calling her friends to update them on her progress...looking her in the eyes each day to remind her how beautiful she was and what an angel she was in your life.  I have watched you be the beacon of light you told your mother she always was to you.  I watched you give your mother the light she gave to you.  The profound impact you have had on my heart as I have watched you love, hurt, cry, express anger, express joy....has been almost too deep and too lovely for my heart to stand.

Two nights ago Oliver woke up and said to me, "she's calling to me...I have to go to her."  He left my apartment and drove in the middle of the night to be by her side.  At 4:30am he called me and said, "I think you need to come down here."  I remember each step of the day like clock work.  Too many tender and private steps to share.  But as I arrived at the hospital at 5:00am I walked in to a hospital room of love and light and peace.  I walked in to a room to see my Oliver caressing his mothers hair as he stood at the head of her bed and the spirit of God radiating through out the room.  The spiritual presence of God was so intense that within minutes I stood by Pamela as I sang and praised to the creator of the universe over her precious body.  At 2:37pm surrounded by family and friends Pamela transitioned to the heavens to be with God.  We all felt her spirit as it filled the room.  Live out Loud.  That was the title of Pamela's first sermon....and live out loud she did.  What a radiant beauty...inside and out.  What an example of a selfless mother.  What an example of a women who walked the walk and talked the talk.  No matter what someone else thought...she followed what she believed to the ends of the earth.

But her greatest creation?  Her greatest expression of love and light?  Her two boys.  One of which I love so dearly.  Oliver...you have lived out loud.  I know you will continue to live out loud...but what I know without a doubt you will continue to do...love people as intensely as you loved your own mother...because that's a gift she gave to you.  You selflessly gave of yourself...only stopping to care for yourself when someone made you ;-)  No one asked you to go to Germany.  No one asked you to put life on pause.  No one asked you to sleep by your mother's bed night after night.  No one asked you to exhibit such selfless love.  You didn't think of you.  You never expected a thank you or recognition.  You ONLY thought of her.  No one asked you...because...no one had to.....

So...you thank ME for walking this journey with you?  No, my handsome love....Thank YOU for allowing me the privilege of walking alongside you.  It has been heartbreaking.  But it has been incredibly touching and life changing.  It has been more beautiful than I could ever accurately portray.  I cannot wait to walk other journeys with you...and I cannot wait to help shine Pamela's spirit each step of the way.

Living Out Loud,
Regina 

Enter In

It’s been over a year since I was last in Sierra Leone.  You would think after a year that the impact would have faded or diminished…but it’s the opposite.  Minute by minute I see their faces. Minute by minute I smell the aroma of River Number 2 and hear the laughter of over 80 glorious children I call…my heart.  I feel them.  I carry their stories with me.  I wait with anticipation for conversations to turn to, “so what else do you do besides dance?”  I can’t wait to word vomit every name and story and win over hearts to make their lives just a little bit better. My heart yearns to be with them.  After traveling to Sierra Leone three times in 10 months I felt like I was being led to Los Angeles to pursue dance and film/television.  I’ve found the transition to be harder than expected.  I have found so much joy in this new space but have also been faced with unexpected challenges. 

When I first moved here I instantly became close with my boyfriend’s mother, Pamela.  She was an actress and is now a minister working as a counselor.  Her light and vibrancy for life pulled me towards her.  I wanted to go to lunch with her, sit and talk with her…hear her heart and share my own.   We instantly connected.  We found we shared so much in common…one of which being that she liked to hear about Africa…and I sure as heck liked to talk about it :0) As I shared my stories with her we decided that she definitely had to travel with me next time I went.  I know her heart and light would explode all over Sierra Leone.  I know her calming touch would leave quite a lasting impression on Sierra Leone. 

Around November Pamela became very sick.  I wrote about her a few months back as her journey through this illness became more serious. As the months have gone on she has gone in to liver failure and has remained quite ill.  I’ve spent many days by her side in Intensive Care and my boyfriend has not gone a single day without holding his mother’s hand or lavishing her in love.   I’ve had so many touching moments I’ve wanted to share…from the constant love he’s shown her to the outpour of compassion from her friends and other family members…to the touching moments she and I have shared sitting in her hospital room. 

I’ve been reading a book called Kisses from Katie by Katie Davis.  What a warrior.  A girl my age from Tennessee who moved to Uganda to devote her life to helping people in need.  She adopted 14 girls and uses her two hands and the light behind her eyes to do what Jesus did….enter into peoples pain.  Enter in.  And take part in their lives in a very real way.

This concept is something I’ve grappled with since getting back from Africa.  WHAT DO I DO WITH ALL THIS INFORMATION? WHAT DO I DO TO MAKE A SUSTAINABLE IMPACT?  Katie says, “And even though I realize I cannot always mend or meet…I can enter in.  I can enter into someone’s pain and sit with them and Know.  This is Jesus.  Not that He apologizes for the hard and the hurt, but that he enters in, He comes with us to the hard places.  And so. I continue to enter.”

And so…even when I don’t feel like I have the emotional strength to…I come to the hospital and sit with Pamela.  I look in to her eyes.  I recognize her pain and affirm her in the journey her body is taking to finding healing.  I hug Oliver as tightly as I can after he spends his days by his mother’s side. 

And I remember…this is the love my little ones in Sierra Leone have taught me.  Unconditional love.  Giving a voice to the voiceless.  I’ve learned the voiceless can manifest in our lives in different ways beyond the “orphan.”  There are times when the “orphan” becomes a woman full of nothing but love and light whose body needs a miracle to heal.  The orphan becomes simply…someone who needs to be lavished in love.  This has been heart wrenching…it’s raw…it’s real…it’s life.  But my loves in Sierra Leone taught me that amidst any struggle and any darkness there is ALWAYS light…there is always the beauty of a huge white smile, there is always light behind the eyes of a tiny baby in need of food.  I’ve been asked the question recently that through something like this how do you see the beauty in life?  How do you enjoy life in the midst of it all…..? 

Well…after the night there’s always morning.  After the sunset there’s always a sunrise.  After a storm there’s always a rainbow.  And within each day there are whispers of beauty.  When we might feel nothing but defeat and the weight of pain…God, the creator of the universe sends little whispers to say…there’s hope…there’s more…there’s life…enjoy it…experience it…breathe it in. 

We enter in to pain and journey through experiences we are faced with never losing sight of the fact that…our goal…our prize is love and light.

 One afternoon Pamela and I were sitting in a restaurant called Mother’s and we were talking about her life and as she spoke of a recent struggle I asked her, “How did you find the strength to make that decision?”  And she said, “Because I had find the joy in life again.”  We enter in…we experience…and we conquer.  We conquer and we find the joy.  For my loves in Sierra Leone…that joy is The Covering.  For my baby, Allie, that joy was finding rest and leaving a lasting imprint on my heart.  For my Pamela…that joy is meeting each new day with the strength of a fighter…meeting each new day to say, “Here I am still world! Let’s do this!”  I don’t know what that joy will continue to manifest in to.  But…each new day…as she continues to say yes…I will continue to say yes as well…I will enter in…enter in and stand by her side. 

I love you my dear, Pamela.  Let’s conquer this struggle so we can get on that plane and spread your light to my loves in Sierra Leone.  They are waiting on you.  And I know they can’t wait to show you their love as well.