After a while, I spied a gigantic rock hot tub located behind strategically placed ferns in a tucked away corner. It was beautiful. HUGE. An oasis of tranquillity. That little spot of heaven could accommodate twenty adults easily. The best part: no one was in it! I tried not to act too excited, kids can sniff out parental hope a mile away. So I played it cool and casually wandered near the hot tub pretending to check out the plants. As I got near the steps, I turned for a quick look behind me to make sure I hadn’t been followed. The coast was clear!  I sunk down into the steamy water. My attitude began to immediately improve. “This place isn’t so bad. Your kids are having a great time. RELAX.” I thought and I did…

“HI MOM!!” screeched my four year old son Zack. I jumped and hit my head on the rock ledge of the tub. In he came to what I was now referring to as “my sanctuary”. He splashed on in and sat down. Expounding on where he believed all of this warm water was coming from. His exuberant tone of voice soon attracted a little girl who drug her  parents into the “hot waters” for some splashing. (Thus proving my theory that children sense when adults are trying to be quiet. They are drawn to solitude like moths to a flame. Moths that come to destroy with big buckets of icy cold water and obnoxiously loud, early nineties pop music)

The little girl plopped down between her parents and they looked at me. Now it was a party. A small awkward party of guests that wanted each other to leave. I could see it in their eyes “Please. Go away. Let us have this one little piece of happiness to ourselves. Do you see our daughter? She is KILLING us. QUICKLY. We just want this one warm spot of water…please…leave.”.  I shifted my position and ignored their looks. I couldn’t do it. Give them the one thing they wanted- alone time.

Zack continued on talking about his puppy, a desire for a pocket knife to kill bands of roving bears, his plan to protect me from said bears that might attack when I least expected, like at Kroger’s grocery store. I began my “Uh huh. That’s right. Good job.” mantra and closed my eyes. 

 The little girl soon left but her parents had stayed behind and started the hot tub… and some cuddling. Even more awkward. Water started gently swirling and one big air bubble rose to the surface. “IT WASN’T ME! I PROMISE!” Zack yelled out in their direction. Then on cue a million little bubbles started breaking the surface of the water. Zack then looked directly at the couple and said “IT MUST HAVE BEEN MY MOM! THAT’S A LOT OF BUBBLES!”.

 They looked at me with hard, unsmiling faces. At that moment, I decided to give them the one thing that they wanted all along.  ”Enjoy the hot tub!” I said, as I exited ungracefully.

 Every passage I memorized left me more and more convinced that I was failing miserably. I began to view the Sermon as a big checklist of good Christianity. Sitting down with the Sermon each day became harder and harder. It was like a huge To-Do List that seemed impossible. Misery set in quickly.

Last week, I was sitting outside in the sun, wrestling though the Sermon again. As I read, I remembered an ugly incident the day before.  We were sitting at a stop light in town, waiting our turn. The light turned green and I began to pull out. At that exact moment a girl in a big SUV ran the stop light. She almost hit us. Her car was so close I could have reached out and touched her. And I really wanted to do just that…Reach out grab, her cell phone and throw it into oncoming traffic.

She never even slowed down. She never looked around. She had no idea she had nearly hit me and my three precious children. I felt weak all over, terrified and then angry. Rage surged up from my feet and then right out my mouth. “YOU IDIOT!”, I yelled. ( She was long gone, but my kids heard every syllable. Great.) It was very quiet in my car for a few minutes after that. But in my head? “YOU IDIOT! YOU IDIOT! RACA! RACA!”

 I was so ashamed.  My words had degraded all of us. Not just her. We were all lessened, not by her carelessness, but by my anger and  hardness. I had acted in a way that was without honor, without dignity.

This is when I began to think about the Sermon in a new way. Maybe my perspective was all wrong. What if Jesus wasn’t laying out a to-do list of piety, but instead a recipe for dignity and honor?

The world view was then and continues to be: Degrading others is not only acceptable, it’s necessary to gain honor and dignity. Tear others down to build yourself up. Get him before he gets you. Use your body, use others’ bodies, in any way you wish.

Then Jesus comes along and says “You have heard it was said…but I tell you…”. Give to those who ask you, love those that hurt you. Skip the illicit sex AND the lusting too. On it goes; the recipe for an abundant life is laid out point by point.  Jesus turns “common knowledge” upside down and in doing so, we are righted- along with those around us. True dignity and honor reign. Lives are lived in deeply meaningful ways.

Now, I read these words with a whole new perspective.  The Sermon on the Mount is a call to a new, honorable, dignified life. An internal shift away from degradation of bodies and spirits, a call to a better life for us and those we impact, not a checklist of attitudes to obtain.

What do you think? Have any thoughts to share about the Sermon on the Mount?

They grabbed my keys and quickly disappeared. By the time I realized what had happened, it was getting dark, cold and my kids were hungry. My husband wouldn’t be home for another two hours. Every second that ticked by brought me closer to a meltdown.  I found myself praying God would bring good from this situation.

Almost immediately, two neighbors I had never met before,  Kenny and A.J. came over and began to help me look for the keys. They looked even harder than I did.  Even though we didn’t find the keys, we found we enjoyed visiting. They have become our friends since then. Several times I have thought how I would never have met them if my keys hadn’t been stolen.

Now here is the ridiculous part of the story, I always knew my keys would come back and God was not finished with this story.  There is no rationality in that sentence. I know that sounds crazy.  The odds were not in my favor, there was no logical reason I believed.  I just did.

So every few days I would think about my keys and wonder where they were. I would pray for those men who stole them- then move on. Periodically I would say to my husband “I can’t believe my keys haven’t turned up yet!”. He would smile at me and say nothing.

This morning my friend Joyce and I were enjoying breakfast together when my phone rang. On the line was a kind man who introduced himself as  Mr. Chuck. He said he had a story to tell me. Early this morning, some men from Central Maintenance were working at my son’s elementary school. They were doing some heating and cooling work on the roof and found…MY KEYS! They gave them to Mr. Chuck who looked them over and noticed on my key ring was a gym membership number. Guess who also is a member of my gym? Mr.Chuck! He had a break coming up so drove across town and asked the gym for help in tracking down the owner of the keys.  Less than an hour later, I had my keys and a picture of Mr. Chuck.

Mr. Chuck is a Christian, who told me all about his family, his church and  his work at the school. Mostly he  was extremely concerned that all credit be given to the men of Central Maintenance. So not only is a sweet man, he is humble as well.  He didn’t even bat an eye when I told him I knew God was going to return those keys. Maybe that is the sweetest gift of all. To be able to share our God stories and not be rejected, but embraced.

The first time one cheats it’s not as difficult to go back to our Main Squeeze and say “Look, it was late. I was desperate. That liquid diet I was trying out made my blood sugar plummet and I wasn’t thinking clearly.  My friends talked me into trying someone else. I didn’t plan on cheating…it just happened. I am sorry. It will never happen again. You are the one for me. From now on, my hair is your hair. Where you go I will go.Your people will be my people. Your Salon will be my Salon. . Amen.”

There will be consequences when you come back. Just get that into your head right now. Your Hair Stylist will never completely trust you again. A cancelled appointment will arouse suspicion. She may require you to come with a doctor’s note next time.

She will also remind you periodically, of you past transgression, the lapse of good judgement. Each aberration of your hair follicles will be blamed on the bad treatment you received from THE OTHER ONE. Plan on having it brought up several times during the next six months, possibly longer. Be prepared to endure emotional upheaval for awhile.  This is a relationship that has suffered a trust crisis, remember those things take time to work out. Eventually things do right themselves and each one pretends the affair never happened. Such relief.

But the second time you jump the fence? Well, there is no going back Sister or Brother. That is it! Game over. What excuse can you possibly muster up for the second straying? There just isn’t one. The first affair could be overlooked, not the second. Not my second…

This is where I found my two-timing self yesterday, an exile from my Salon home, in need of hair intervention.  I walked into the new salon with a sense of shame. I had messed in my own, comfortable nest and now must try to build a new nest. My new stylist is much different than my old one. She doesn’t wear shoes and has a penchant for Hot Pockets. But she did a good job with my hair and that’s enough, I guess. 

Still, I miss my old salon. I am thinking about driving by there today. A couple of times. Might even stop in and buy some hairspray. Maybe I’ll say “Hi” to my old Stylist. Perhaps we’ll talk and she will welcome me back with open arms, no questions asked. A girl can dream.

One thing I have noticed is that playing Little League entails many of the same pitfalls that go hand in hand with being a Christian, for most of us. Here are a few similarities, in my opinion.

1. IT’S EXCITING!…Why Don’t Other Folks Want To Play?-  Little League is a BIG deal when you are six. There are new uniforms, new equipment, cheering fans and new people to befriend. Just like being a new Christian. Every day is awesomely exciting…at first…then not so much…then amazing again! What’s not to love?

We can’t believe that other people have no interest in being a Christian and find it even more unbelievable that someone may not have had a great experience when they were. Folks walk away from God and we are mystified. What happened? Don’t they like to wear cleats? (BTW, if you attend a church that requires members to wear cleats, please write me)

2. Failure is always an option (surprise!)- My son fully expects to hit a home run every game. EVERY game. So when he strikes out (60%) of the time, he is shocked. Completely shocked and ridiculously hard on himself.

Zeke is certain that failure was not supposed to be an option on his journey. “I was supposed to be good at this!” he says in a heartbreaking way. I totally understand that, but where do we get those ideas? How many Christians find themselves in the same boat? Wondering what happened? Struggling with “old sins”, falling into new ones right and left.  Failure wasn’t supposed to be an option…was it? No one said anything about THAT in orientation!

3. Compare, Compare- The boys and girls on Zeke’s team are constantly comparing themselves to each other. Who can hit the ball the farthest? Who always gets a hit? Who can run at near sonic speed? I don’t know. Ask Zeke or his team mates. They know and are dying to share the information with you.

Every Christian I know struggles with comparison in some way. We can totally ignore that whole passage in Corinthians about every “part” being vital to the body and instead wish we could be like _____. Or we may go the other direction and assume we are really better than we are since we don’t struggle with _____ like Brother and Sister X. Either way, it’s a slippery complicated slope. I know, since I slide down it, face first, more than you know.   ; )

3. Sometimes We Get BAD Advice – In every game Zeke has played this season, someone ends up tagged out because of bad advice. In Little League baseball, like life, the loudest voices often dominate. The parents screaming “RUN!” from the stands are easier to hear than the first base coach pleading with kids to STOP.  I see kids hesitate over bad advice, time and again, then choose to follow the booming crowd over the coach. The look of dismay that comes over the kids when they realize that they did the “right” thing but still have to make the long, lonely walk to the dugout is sobering. Been there. Done that.

As a Christian, we are called to live in community with others. (God is BIG on community, He’s the original. The OC) When we walk with others, it’s inevitable we get some bad advice along the way. I do believe there are those who set out to deceive, but for the most part, we pass on to other folks bad theology that we have been given. 

When you have been the recipient of such, there are two choices. Get bitter or forgive. I think we know where Jesus lands on this issue.

4.   We Forget- Man, we forget where we have been so easily it makes my head spin. We wrestle and pray and seek and then…something Holy clicks within us and WE GET IT! (insert Angelic chorus here) So the next day, we are frustrated that others are STILL lagging behind. Yes, we just now sort of grasp the concept, but we know that if “they” would just try harder it would be obvious to them as well. Come on already!

Zeke can’t believe that Zack has trouble catching the ball. Still?  He’s four years old! I have trouble being patient with others who still wrestle over issues I have moved on from or feel compelled to explain to me, repeatedly, how I am so clearly wrong in certain areas. Why aren’t they HERE already?

 Oh, yeah, just got here myself. Now I remember…

So what about you? Have anything to add or debate me on? I welcome your insights- just take off your cleats first…

But this post is not about  me, it’s about the people on the planes…

As I flew over five thousand miles with hundreds of stangers, I was repeatedly hit by one thought: People are pretty good. I know that sounds simplistic and maybe naive, but let me tell you why I believe that is actually a statement of hope and recognition of reality.

I tend to feel down if I watch too much news coverage. It’s easy to think the world (and it’s people) stink after an hour of network news. There is so much pain, injustice, and negativity that I feel my heart will break from the sadness. The brutality and unloving acts of other humans played out in a 24 hours news cycle is too much to bear.  Cynicism is the natural consequence of ingesting such toxicity day in and day out.  Thus, I limit my exposure to the negativity while still finding a way to stay informed.

But cynicsim still seeps into my life…despite my vigiliance. It creeps in when I see the mom at the ball park yell at her six year old for striking out. It rushes in when I see people I love taken advantage of and it pours in when I see myself resorting to “old sins” I thought I left behind long ago. Like a drumbeat, these thoughts come into my head, my heart: “People are mean. The world is a scary, cruel place. Things will only get worse. Where is God?” 

And then…then I sit in a plane full of strangers, flying high over the clouds, three thousand feet in the air and I see God, in all of them. The elderly couple who gives up their seats so a toddler can have more room to romp on the plane, the young men who hoist the ridiculously heavy bags into the overhead for people they have never met before, then pull them gently back down again- that is God’s loving nature displayed in humans. Strangers who sit down together and share their lives, strangers who sit down together, rest beside each other in amicable silence, share snacks, overlook offenses…those are examples of the goodness of  God and the people he has created. 

These acts are reality too! Though they will not be reported or repeated on news casts or anywhere else for that matter. I submit that there is much more loving kindness being perpetrated in this world than not. I do not intend to give the impression it’s all sunshine and roses out here. I see injustice. I see greed, arrogance and evil…but I see good too. I see God and THAT is worth writing about.

It’s not going to make you laugh or cry or anything else. There will be no “Aha!” moment or even an “Oh, that was uncomfortable” moment, to be perfectly honest. No, this post is just a casual “Hey, back in town and thought we could get together sometime soon” kind of message.

So…yeah…back in town and ready to write. I will be showing up here tomorrow with something PROFOUND to say or not…  You will just have to come back and see! (I sure hope you do)

I can’t really describe what it sounds like since there are so many variations. It all depends on the size of the smooched area, wind speed, humidity levels, mood of the mother, squirming of the object of affection. There are just too many variables. I bet you know what I am writing about though. It’s that kiss that results from an overflowing of joy and love that makes you charge your children like a wild bear after it’s prey. Except the Black Bear eats what it’s after, we just want to give our prey a big, loud kiss. So really, nothing alike at all. Moving on… 

Not every one is a fan of the  Sonic Boom Smooch. I know, it’s shocking. My husband is one such individual. This came to light while pregnant with our first baby. Sitting in an overcrowded obstetrician’s office, the woman next to us was mauling her sweet baby with ear shattering kisses. My husband leaned over and said ”My Eternal Love, when thou bears the first sired son of the Sanders tribe, wilst thou refrain from making those loud kissing noises upon his wondrous fleshy cheeks? My stomach becomes overwrot at the sound and I fear retching.” I replied “Of course I can not promise suchmy Eternal Love. Tis my job as Mother.” (This may not have been exactly the way it all went down, but it’s how I chose to remember it) Never having been a fan of recieving such messy loud kisses, he assumes others don’t like them either. 

I believe, however, there is a time and place for The Sonic Boom Kiss. Here are a few of my personal guidelines for it’s use: 

1. When a regular kiss just won’t do-  Sometimes we just need to bring the big guns of parental love. We know when it needs to come out… and aren’t afraid to causing hearing impairment to those around us to get that kid’s frown turned upside down. Examples: Illness, lost family pet, good report card, bad report card.

2. Cute pajamas- Mom’s are suckers for kids dressed in cute pj’s, aren’t we. Dinosaurs, stars, and primary colors are like Kryptonite to us. We lose all self control and snatch them up out of their Thomas the Tank Engine slippers for a kiss.

3. Relational Issues- Sibling Rivalry, Friendship ups and downs all require a Sonic Boom Kiss.

4. Graduation from ANYTHING- If someone is capable of graduating from something, I can guarantee you there will a be a mom there to blow out the sound system by her display of affection.

So what about you? When do you bring out the Sonic Boom Kiss to plant on your children?

I think God designed us Moms to love ugly babies because the world can be a cold, harsh place for a newborn with a black uni-brow and coating of back hair thick enough to braid. We don’t see it…okay, we see it. BUT ouur overwhelming love for our children and deep unshakeable faith in God allows us to gloss over those oddities with an abundance of love. 

Not everyone shares our rosy view.  Unfortunately, some old crazy, excuse me “impaired” Aunt is always waiting in the delivery room with a magnifying glass to inspect and pass judgement on our brand new offspring. She can’t wait to point out the teenage worthy acne break out and any toes that are slightly (or extremely) longer than the others.

Once we maneuver past the Crazy Aunts, the whole wide world awaits our ugly baby’s debut into society or the local Target, whichever comes first. Those early tentative outings with an Ugly Baby or UGB for short are stressful for Mom. People are drawn to brand spanking new humans like moths to a flame.  They want to bring that ship into the shore and share their thoughts on your bundle of joy. They can’t fight that feelin’ anymore,  like a classic REO Speedwagon  song.

Here is a quick way to decode a stranger’s remarks about your UGB:

“Wow. He sure is big”- That kid is freakishly large. Probably has a thyroid condition. How will they ever afford to feed him? Better add them to our family prayer list.

“I am sure she will be smart”- Hmm… given her family genetics and tendency to drool excessively when propped on her left side, I hope she is a genius. She’ll have to be to ever fit in society. Let’s add them to our prayer list.

“He has great lungs!”- OH MY GOODNESS GRACIOUS. No child should turn that color when he cries. Ever. That scared me. I am seriously scared. Check Please!

“Is her head supposed to look like that?” - Somebody get a doctor over here! I didn’t even know that was possible. This kid is destined for the circus. Right? Can you ever be President with a misshaped noggin like that? Not in America, Buddy. That’s just sad.

“We dealt with UGB syndrome too” – This will pass. Come Toddlerhood your Baby will be the cutest one in preschool. I promise. All these people who declare that baby ugly and scary looking now, will come and repent. They weep at the sight of that beautiful, athletic child someday and you will forgive them… and add them to your prayer list…because you are a Saint my friend.  

Anyone want to admit to having an Ugly Baby that grew into a Beautiful Child or am I the only one?