Grammar Nazi Poser

I’m a Grammar Nazi poser. I think I’m a Grammar Nazi. I want to be one. I arrogantly assume the role of one too often in conversations, but the truth is I’m just a silly little poser in love with her dictionary and thesaurus.

That fact slapped me in the face last night as I ranted on about a letter someone wrote to Glenn Beck, which he dutifully read on-air, scolding him for improper past tense usage of the word “sneak.”

Now, I consider myself an educated, intelligent woman with a rather large vocabulary. I pride myself on proper pronunciation and word usage within a  conversation. Okay, let’s cut the the pious crap and get down to it: I’m arrogantly smug when I come up against a word I am sure is being mispronounced, misused or is just plain wrong. I may not correct you in front of everyone, but rest assured I will correct you at some point. And in the meantime, I will (sort of) do my best to hide my snickering behind a well-placed hand over my mouth. I am the Queen of Words. Do not mess with my domain.

Enter the word “sneaked.” Past tense of sneak. Past participle of sneak. The bane of my existence.

From the moment I first heard it (which, oddly enough, was not until I moved to the South) I snickered. Paleese people! Learn how to speak proper English. Everyone knows the past tense of sneak is snuck.

Well, apparently everyone forgot to notify AskOxford because they quite chide our American arses for changing their word and thus once again polluting the English Language. They insist that if ever we step foot in merry-old England we simply must not utter “snuck” or we will be exposed for the uneducated dolts we are. The word is “sneaked” thank you very much and we kindly ask you to stop butchering the language we created. It’s not called American, after all, is it? No, it’s called English (please note author’s tongue firmly planted in cheek).

I always thought the British to be a bit stuffy and persnickety when it comes to the English language anyway. I mean, really, these are the people who leave the “the” off of nouns like hospital and university, that can’t spell color, labor or flavor to save their lives and add “r”s onto the end of words like “law” which clearly don’t end in r. Anyone who does that must have serious language issues, don’t you think?

Well, I do. So I went in search of an expert who agreed with me. And I finally found one. Random House’s Maven explains that while the captious Brits are correct that it was not the original or once-correct past tense, “snuck” has snuck into the US lexicon and is today the widely accepted, and sometimes even preferred, past tense form. So there.

The origin of snuck seems to come from the deep South and was first viewed as the vocabulary of the uneducated. A fact I find quite hilarious considering that to me, “sneaked” sounds like the uneducated, preschool version. Of course, I am also the idiot who once severely chided a writer for peppering his script with the word “shooter” because it was “poor English,” and that he would have to “improve his vocabulary beyond the third grade level” if he ever hoped to sell a script. See?? Grammar Nazi poser, arrogance and all. Thank God that both the script submission and the critique were anonymous so neither of us had to suffer the embarrassment of revealing just exactly who the uneducated idiot was.

As I lay in bed last night mumbling curses at the writer of the Glen Beck letter who pulled back the curtain of my Grammar Nazi control booth exposing me for the poser I am and who was now robbing me of blissful sleep, I struggled to embrace this new word that had sneaked up on me….

Nope. Can’t do it. Sneaked still feels like I’m back in preschool.

Lord help me, I’m in vocabulary hell!

Repeaters

I am prone to Migraines. These days they are mostly hormonally driven, which is good because it means I can track them and prepare, and that they herald other, um, changes headed my way.

However, in the last two days I have had three really bad Migraines complete with visual disturbances. Yesterday afternoon was the first, and I felt I dodged a bullet by taking Advil Migraine as soon as the first little "squiggly line" appeared (I only take Immetrex when I’m in a place where I can lie down and sleep because it tends to knock me on my butt) and that seemed to keep the pain to a dull roar. This morning I woke up with only minor discomfort in my head.

However, this afternoon, at nearly the same time as yesterday, those horrid squiggly lines reappeared. They are awful because they obstruct my vision and make it impossible to read or write anything. They used to start on the outside of my vision and move inward and around, effectively giving me tunnel vision. These days they often start at the center of my field of vision, kind of like the annoying dots you see after a camera flash goes off in your face, and just keep building outward. I can see, but I can’t really make out any details.

At any rate, when those buggers came back today at nearly the same time as yesterday, I started getting a little concerned. It is unusual for me to have two in a row. I took the Advil Migraine again, but the pain today has been much worse than yesterday. I canceled my strength training session, went home and crashed on the couch — keeping it dark and quiet — and the pain eased up.

However, just about an hour ago those blasted squiggly lines started up again. And now I’m in tremendous pain, even though Immetrex is now coursing through my system.

I don’t get it. The last time this happened was four years ago, and it became quickly apparent that my daily dose of delicious Gouda cheese was the culprit. Within a day of cutting out the Gouda, the Migraines ceased. But I haven’t had a daily dose of cheese in a long time, and I can find no similar pattern in my recent diet to cause Migraine-repeaters.

Anyone out there got any ideas what the heck is going on with me?

Only One Chance to Get it Right

Erwin has often stated that in the wake of September 11th he told Aaron and Mariah, "we cannot choose how we will die, but we can choose how we will live." He realized he could not lie to his children about the dangers in this world and the distinct possibility that they will one day be face-to-face with unspeakable horror and death. But he could help them realize that every day presents new opportunities to live, truly live life to the fullest; to seize every moment of the day as if it were the only one left. Because, truthfully, we don’t know if we will get another. Our next breath may well be our last.

Jerry Falwell discovered that truth this morning. He had an ordinary morning, according to Ron Goodwin, "I had breakfast with him, and he was fine at breakfast," Godwin said. His staff later found him lying on the floor unresponsive and he was pronounced dead a little while later.

I think Erwin was right, but not completely. We not only can choose how we live, we do choose, whether we realize it or not. Those little seemingly insignificant decisions we make every day have the power to alter the course of our lives and shape our character. When crises hit, our character reveals itself in how we respond in action and word, in attitude and deed.

Jerry Falwell was not well-liked. At all. A quick post regarding his death on NiT generated over 50 comments in it’s first two 2 and a half hours, the first one being "prayer really does work." I admit it, I laughed. I didn’t like Falwell either. I didn’t ever agree with his politics or his stance on just about anything other than perhaps John 3:16. I felt he was an embarrassment to any thinking Christian and an insult to every thinking person. I realize others saw something else in him, but all I saw was a pompous ass bent on forcing his particular brand of Christianity on America.

Jerry Falwell’s life was not a life well-lived. Yes, he amassed wealth and power, especially religious political power. Yes, he built a religious empire there in Virginia. Yes, his name is known and has become synonymous with the word "Christianity" (usually said with disdain and/or contempt). He made a name and reputation for himself. But sadly, it does not reflect the heart of Jesus. And now that he is dead, I dare say the vast majority of America is not the least bit sad to see him go. Not even this sister in Christ.

Isn’t that the saddest thing you ever heard? Truly pitiable. I just saw a press release from another major religious-police figure expressing sadness for Falwell’s family and joy for his home-going (Christian-speak for dyin’ and goin’ to heaven). As I read, all I could think of was the two-faced-ness of author; the disdain and enmity he expressed toward Falwell in private while to the world they kissy-faced all day long. In my heart I don’t believe a single sappy word of that release. I think this religious-policeman is secretly both dancing for joy that his rival/thorn-in-the-side is gone and trembling in fear that he may be next. When he dies not as many people will notice, but probably the same percentage will not weep.

We only have one chance to get it right. I hope I live life well. I hope I continually remember (please Jesus – and friends out there! – remind me!) that every decision I make determines who I become. I don’t want to be a Jerry Falwell. I want to be a Mother Theresa.

Word count: 610 – 110 words over my goal…

Family

Family2001I just spent four fun joy-filled days with Family. Despite the stress of getting through a blended-family outdoor wedding on a cold and rainy night, we had an awesome time together. I saw a niece I hadn’t seen in nearly ten years along with her two sons, my brother whom I hadn’t seen in four years, and got a surprise visit from a nephew I hadn’t seen in three years.

We laughed till our sides hurt, got loud and playfully obnoxious as we played our favorite family game of Nerts, had some serious talks, and just enjoyed being in each other’s presence. I had a fabulous time, even though my sister’s home was overflowing with family, and a little drama.

It wouldn’t feel right, would it, to not have a little drama at a family gathering; someone upset/hurt/angry at someone else for God-only-knows-what-reason. Sadly, I’m usually in the middle of the mess. If I’m not the offended one or the offender, then I’m trying to help "resolve" the issue by taking offense for the one and taking action against the other. I never helped matters any, just got myself all tied up in knots emotionally.

Thankfully, I stayed out of the drama this weekend. I did start to try to "fix" a particular injustice before I realized that it was not my job and backed off quickly. It was hard to do at first — our family is very good at meddling in each others lives (boundaries again)! It’s a hard habit to break but I did it. I kept out of the middle and just let the dramas play out. It’s amazing how quickly stress dissipates when you realize you aren’t responsible for fixing the world and keeping it happy.

I don’t think my mom ever learned that. She was the one at every family gathering who constantly focused on the comfort and happiness of everyone else. If you didn’t have food or drink or a smile on your face, she felt she’d failed in her duty as hostess and mom, as if she was responsible for the happiness of the world. Or at least the world around her.

I’m a lot like that. I want to make sure everyone has whatever it is they need to be happy, relaxed and content. Trouble is, I can only provide so much. I can get them something to drink, bring extra cookies when I get myself one or give up my seat so another doesn’t have to sit on the floor. But I cannot change the heart of a petty, lonely bio-mom jealous of her daughter’s step-mom and make her follow proper wedding protocol, even if the slighted step-mom is my sister. Nor can I make a 19-year-old husband grow up or a pregnant 20-year-old’s life less of a hormonal roller-coaster. And I cannot save my niece’s marriage any more than I could save my mom from dementia.

My mom never learned that, so she spent her life – until dementia claimed her mind – desperately trying to make everyone happy. If even one person wasn’t happy, she wasn’t happy. The thing is, she didn’t have to do anything. Her personality and spirit brought joy and sunlight to people the moment she walked in a room. Her husband of 61 years, family and all her friends would readily attest to that. Yet till the day she could no longer remember, she was desperate to make everyone around her happy.

I’m like my mom in many ways, so perhaps it was only natural that I would pick up on her desire to please everyone, keep everyone happy and at peace with each other. As a young adult I used to get so frustrated with her. "Mom, just sit down and enjoy your dinner! We’re all fine! And if we need something we can get it ourselves." I swore to myself I would never be like that with my own family. But this weekend I realized she left a gap in our family. So many people coming and going with so many things on their minds, no one was really watching out for the rest. Don’t get me wrong. We aren’t a bunch of self-absorbed jerks (well, not always), but we don’t always think about everyone else either. So before I could even think about what I was doing, I stepped in and filled mom’s old role. I constantly heard my mother’s voice coming out of my mouth: "Do you need something to drink?" "Can I get you something to eat?" "You want to sit down?" It was really weird when I realized what I was doing, like standing outside myself and watching it all happen. But I think I was able to take the good stuff of my mom’s servant heart, and leave behind the need to please everyone and keep the peace. At least I hope so.

word count: 816 – 316 over my goal….

Muse-ing

Perhaps she can help me become a pithier writer…..

gURL.comI took the "The Nine Muses" quiz on gURL.com
My muse is…
Calliope

Calliope is the patron goddess of epic poetry.  She is often depicted holding a writing tablet and wearing a golden crown, for she is the oldest of the muses and their leader. Her name means "The Fair Voiced," but Calliope inspires eloquence in writing.   Read more

Who is your muse?

In 500 Words or Less

Words_close_up_2 As the school year winds down for those in "normal" school (I of the special school – aka distance learning – am on a completely different schedule) many of my friends are currently engaged in writing various papers and finishing up final projects. Some are putting in late nights/early mornings to finish up 20, 30, even 50 page papers, while others are assigned a word count. One friend recently told me she had a class paper due this week and when I asked how many pages, she shrugged and just said, it’s only 500 words. Holy crap. I could do that in my sleep! And that got me to thinkin’…. (always a dangerous thing)

Three of my last five posts have been well over a thousand words. That’s a one with three zeros after it — or in a couple of cases a one with three larger digits after it. More than double than my friend’s paper. I’m grateful for those of you who took up the challenge and waded through all those words, but  some of your teased me about how loooooong the posts were. And too be honest, I tend to shy away from long posts in other blogs myself, especially if the first paragraph or two don’t capture my attention, because I just don’t have the time to read all that. If I wanted a novel, I’d have ordered it from Amazon.com. I’d wager that many of you feel the same.

So here’s my thought: For the month of May I will keep all my posts to 500 words or less (with two notable exemption: Bible verses and dictionary definitions won’t count against my own word count). Now, that may mean a topic gets a two-part post (or a three-part, or four…). But mostly what it will mean is that I must curb my verbosity. I’m hoping it will help me get to my point quicker, cut down on all the repetitious examples and make my writing just a bit more palatable to those who don’t have a lot of time. To keep me honest, I will publish the word-count at the end of the post.

I think I’m a decent writer and that what I have to say is good.  However, I also think my wordy posts are keeping some from reading and thus from partaking in that "goodness". That, to me, is regrettable. So what say you?  Are you open to shorter Lu-posts, or do you prefer the longer treatises? For my part I will keep it short sweet and to the point this month. Let’s just see how pithy I can be.

word count: 438

Refining Fire

ForgingironsmrThe following is an excerpt from my newsletter from April 30, 2003, while I was serving overseas as a missionary. I re-read it the other night as I was looking through old files (hunting, of course, for something completely unrelated). However, the lesson God was teaching me at the time seems so relevant to what I experienced this past month.

Isn’t it crazy how I’m still struggling to learn the same lesson four years later! Yet, as I look back at what happened in that four years, the storm in my life that had been brewing for nearly a year at the time of this newsletter and then exploded with violent force just two months later, I realize how invaluable the insight in this newsletter was for me, and how it kept me deeply connected to God and confident of His presence through the darkest time of my life. Discovering that God truly wants to be not just my Savior or my God, but also my bosom friend created a new reality in me that continues to this day. What I said in that newsletter four years ago about God’s desires for our relationship have now, four years later, become reality.

Earlier in this newsletter I discussed a cd-rom project I was putting together to be used for advocacy and mobilization by the various unreached people group teams working in my region. I was at the point in the project of rewriting, revising, refining and polishing. As errors or problems were uncovered by my proofreading teammates testing the cd, I became increasing frustrated and discouraged, struggling constantly with a worry that I would never get the cd-rom "right".

I have seen this process repeating itself in my walk with Christ lately, as He points out the inconsistencies, clutter and messiness of my heart, and works to move me from a woman of average character toward one of strength and godliness. I am so grateful for His deep love, and His longing to see me become who He knows I can be! But I have to tell ya, there are many days I feel overwhelmed and frustrated. And l often wonder if I’ll ever get it right.

In my failure and frustration, however, I have seen God pursue me with unbelievable abandon. The more time I spend with Him, the more I realize I’ve been missing the point of my refining fires for far too many years.

While He is very concerned about my character and desires to refine it; and while life isn’t ultimately about me and what I can “do” for God, what I have learned lately is that the ultimate purpose of the refining fires in my life is to draw me into a deeply intimate relationship with Him. He longs to be my most intimate companion, my bosom friend, as Anne Shirley would say; the first one I want to talk to in the morning and the last one I want to hear from at night, the first one I call when something amazing happens and the one I turn to when the unthinkable occurs. He is relentlessly pursuing me, in a way no hero in any romantic story could ever come close to! And He has made it clear He will never give up.

I admit, this all sounds so “me-centered” and writing this felt almost arrogant. But I have experienced the reality of it. Truthfully, I cannot fathom why the Awesome God of the Universe, who could have anything or anyone His heart desired, would choose me. But I am so grateful He has!

DNFTEC

Years ago, long before the creation of the World Wide Web, when the Internets was still an idea stirring in Al Gore’s brain, I belonged to an online community established using General Electric’s company mainframe.  GEnie had bulletin boards and chat rooms dedicated to people crazy enough to use a modem in their computer, dial in to a local node, and converse with people they didn’t know in person about a vast array of topics. I used to hang out in the SFRT (Science Fiction/Fantasy Round Table) boards, mainly in the Star Trek topics.  Yes, I am a geek. Geek1 This is not news.

At any rate, I learned an important principle during my time on GEnie, called DNFTEC. "Do Not Feed The Energy Creature." The principle is borne from the reality that there are certain people in the virtual world who feed off the negative energy of others. They are strengthened and invigorated through other’s anger or frustration and through choleric exchanges with people even if they don’t personally engage every stormy response. As long as they can invoke outrage and vexation to the point that someone responds in kind they are happy. To that end they intentionally "flame" a thread (create conflict) by bringing up hot-button topics or just plain picking a fight.

It works incredibly well. You’d think we humans would be smart enough to stay out of pointless arguments and debates, but you’d be surprised (or not) how quickly you can get sucked in by an Energy Creature. All they have to do is find the right button in your head — or heart — and, boom!, you are screaming mad and using words you thought your mom had expunged from your vocabulary way back in grammar school when she made you spend two hours with a lovely bar of Lava soap in your mouth.

It took me a while to get what it really means to "not feed the energy creature" but finally I understood. The only way to "win" with ECs is to just not play. Don’t answer. Don’t respond. Don’t take the bait. Just let their comments hang out there alone where everyone can see their futility, their ugliness and even their cruelty.

It’s taking me a lot longer to understand that perhaps the same principle applies to dealing with the ECs out here in the real world. But out here it’s simply called "Healthy Boundaries."

I have just said a word that tends to set the Christian world on end. Boundaries, healthy or not, are so often vilified by Christians because they can appear to others, especially those prone to co-dependency, to be quite selfish, self-serving, and even unfeeling, mean-spirited and unChrist-like. We Christians are supposed to be open and loving, allowing others into our hearts, not closed and holding others at a distance. Boundaries too often sound much more like an electric fence or concrete wall than the God-honoring self-defining borders healthy ones really are. And indeed, unhealthy boundaries, often are electric fences and concrete walls that hold people at a distance. Or they are floppy, wet-noodle sort of things that move all over the place, never providing any real protection or consistency. I have friends who’s boundaries are so large that you have to scale six huge stone walls, cross three very deep crocodile-infested moats separated by miles of tall-grass fields and remember on which side of the rickety drawbridge it’s safe to step ("walk on the left side!") just to get to know them. But then they turn around and let the skankiest, cruelest people of the opposite sex right in to the center of their heart and let them rule.

Healthy boundaries aren’t floppy or nearly that big (think more suburban neighborhood than kingdom). They are like picket fences with gates or backyard wooden slat fences just tall enough to protect but not too tall for neighborly conversation (think Wilson from "Home Improvement"). There’s room for interaction  over the fence, and others can come and go into both my yard and my home. Yet who I am and what I allow/how I expect you to treat me are clearly defined and immovable. My gates can be shut and locked should you refuse to treat me with the kindness and respect I deserve. We can still have good conversation and friendship over the fence, you’re just not allowed in to my private sanctuary places because you’ve proved I cannot trust you.

I’m still working on this whole concept of healthy boundaries and making it a reality in my life. I didn’t grow up with them. I grew up in a boundary-less family where I learned that everyone but me has a "right" to define me. It’s taking me a while to understand that’s not at all the way God intended. I’m also discovering that until I define and build my healthy boundaries, I have a hard time respecting yours. I think this is why I have always had such a hard time not feeding the Energy Creatures.

Some people just need chaos/drama in their life. Have you noticed that? I don’t get that – because I hate chaos. But there are some people I’ve run across in my life that just seem drawn to it and if they go very long without encountering it, they’ll create it themselves. They love to suck you into their vortex of chaos/drama, tie you up in some argument and guilt you into apologizing and "reconciling." If it’s not you this time, then it’s someone else in their life, but you’re still sucked into the drama through their constant recounting of their emotional stress and trauma.

What’s wild is they seem to be at their thriving best through it all; as if all that chaos and drama brings out their strengths… or that the only time they can be who they truly are and feel good about themselves is when they are embroiled in chaos, drama or conflict. So they continuously sabotage and destroy the relationships and successes in their own lives to feed that need.

For years my co-dependent tendencies kept me from seeing that the chaos/drama/conflict in some friends lives was in fact created by that very person, and not just life getting out of control. Several years of intense counseling (at least it feels intense to me) and working to understand and change my own hurtful/harmful patterns has made me a lot more sensitive to the harmful ones in others. For this I both thank God and cry out to Him, "why???" Because now I can clearly see how some friends sabotage themselves on a regular basis. I desperately want them to stop but I cannot do anything about it.

I cannot just run from these people either — though perhaps prudence would strongly advise it — because I love them dearly. But I also cannot let their chaos continue to wreak havoc in my own life. So the only thing I know to do is develop healthy, durable boundaries that lets them continue on in their cycles of chaos as long as they so desire, but keeps the chaos off my lawn and out of my house. It sounds so simple. Doing it, however, has been the hardest thing in my life.

Online Energy Creatures can be ignored when they spew their drama, but EC friends cannot be. They get in your face and demand attention. Learning to walk away from arguments, to not perpetuate their drama by responding in kind; learning to say, "I’m sorry you feel that way" and mean it — to truly be sad that they feel the way they do and not just angry that they refuse to listen; learning to state clearly how I expect to be treated and not treated, saying "this is unacceptable"; learning to guard my heart, holding these people at  an arm’s length, even though I love them deeply, so that my heart and soul are protected from getting tangled up in their chaos and drama — these tools are helping me. They are some of the pieces of re-setting boundaries and holding those boundaries as sacred, even in the face of hurtful accusations of selfishness. This, I think, is the real-life way to "not feed the Energy Creatures."

Happy Anniversary…

Sassysamathastarbucksm
…to me! One year ago today I found my Sassy (full name: Sassy Samantha Starbuck — the triple-S threat! — after two of my favorite women television characters). You can read about the adventure here, here and here.

…AND to my beautiful, passionate sister, Nina, and her amazing
Ninatoby_3
husband, Toby. They were married on a  gorgeous South Carolina spring day 15 years ago. I got to be there and witness their union as the Maid of Honor and I don’t think any of us Everett girls (except maybe my oldest sister, Paula, who always manages to hold it together in public) had a dry eye during the ceremony. I think mom started the water works, and once I looked at her, I was done.

I have to admit, my tears were quite selfish. It felt for all the world to me like I was losing my best friend. Our relationship would never be the same. That last part is true, but thanks to God and Nina, the first part never was. Our friendship has just grown deeper through the years. I am so proud and so honored to call her not just "sister" but one of my best friends.

Congrats on 15 wonder-filled adventurous years, sis!! And here’s to the next 50+! 🙂

The Most Important vs. The Not-So-Important

Where do we draw the line on publicly memorializing the dead, or whom do we memorialize? How do we choose who’s honored and who’s not?

My friends KatRose and Marti have brought up some very solid, valid points in their comments about public grieving. I thought to address them in the comment section, but felt they deserve a post of their own.

KatRose hits the core of what I’ve been thinking when she says,

I’m not suggesting we shouldn’t feel for the people directly and indirectly involved. But is it justified to have a national moment of silence for the dead when the vast majority of us have never been to VT, met a single student or even were aware of the college until this happened? I feel badly for the families and friends of the dead. I feel awful that the school has to deal with the emotional, mental and financial aftermath of this gunman’s handiwork. But is flying flags at half-mast (which was happening all over Vegas and LA this week), something that should be done for a localized event?

I have to say I heartily agree. I feel so sad for all involved too. But what was the deal with President Bush ordering flags to be at half staff all week? At first I thought it was just my company, because one of our own had a child wounded in the shooting (and that shows you how much I notice flags outside my own work campus). I thought it was a kind gesture, even though that co-employee lives in Virginia. However, on Friday I noticed the flag at the Post Office also flying at half staff. Shouldn’t that be reserved for dignitaries, veterans, soldiers and true heroes?

I don’t mean to make light of the students who died or were wounded, but I’ve yet to hear any stories of true heroism among them. Most just didn’t have the time to react, or were just trying desperately to escape. What’s happening in Iraq and Afghanistan every single day, that’s heroism. Soldiers going into dangerous neighborhoods in order to root out the enemy and restore peace, driving down dangerous roads littered with road-side bombs in order to provide a fighting chance for those who really desire democracy, and crawling into burning vehicles, risking their very lives to save the life of just one fallen comrade. The VT shootings are tragic, yes, but they are not so tragic nor heroic to warrant our national symbol lowered to the mourning position. if we’re going to do it for them, then why not all the other school violence? Domestic violence every day? Every officer killed in the line of duty every day? Do you see what I mean? Lowering our national flag is supposed to mark a significant national loss, not individual tragedies. 

Indeed, even soldiers are wondering what’s going on. One soldier took the time to write an opinion piece questioning why Bush would order the flags lowered for students of what now looks for all the world like a random act of violence done by a very sick individual, but states will not lower it for the soldiers from their state who die protecting our rights to freedom (and flag lowering) every single day. What gives?

Marti brings up another issue that’s even closer to my heart: people who are hurting, and our international mission/purpose as a Community of followers of Jesus.

…at a church retreat this weekend they had us read out the names of the kids who died. Thirty-some senseless deaths… but are they more tragic than others? I felt the same twinge I’d felt at the office, trying to decide if we needed to pray about the Virginia situation, instead, when I had prepared stuff for us to pray about regarding the significant religious persecution going on in Ethiopia and Nigeria; more believers have been martyred in both places recently. (emphasis mine)

A church has daily updates on the kid with cancer while nobody notices the old woman wasting away in depression. Or worse, bitterness. Not so cuddly.

So: what gets attention, what does not, is not fair, is not even.

What is it that causes us to be more moved by students killed in a random act of violence than the thousands killed purposely and specifically because of their religious beliefs? The former is just tragic, while the latter is an abomination that ought to stir some semblance of righteous anger within us. Hopefully enough to do something.

Church, what is it about us/in us that we  are more apt to pray for a boy with cancer than search for, pray for and walk beside the bitter woman struggling with depression? Why are we more apt to pray for people hurting in another state than we are for our own persecuted brothers and sisters in another country?

What are we reminding ourselves of when we "read out the names of the kids who died"? What purpose does that serve, really? Yeah, okay, God can use anything to bring our attention back to Himself. But It seems to me all we’re doing with that is reminding ourselves of our own mortality, rather than turning our attention toward God. Shouldn’t we, instead, be reminding ourselves of our responsibilities before God to the world? Look, I’m not talking about America here. At least not in the America The Nation sense. I’m talking about followers of Christ who by living here in America have been given incredible blessings from God when He determined this time and this place in history for us to be born.

"From one man he made every nation of men, that they should inhabit the whole earth; and he determined the times set for them and the exact places where they should live. God did this so that men would seek him and perhaps reach out for him and find him, though he is not far from each one of us."  Acts 17:26-27 (emphasis mine)

We, the community of followers of Jesus in the US, have been chosen and determined by God to be Americans at this very time. Appointed by God, ya’ll! That’s huge! Do you get it? He. Chose. Us. Why? Beats the hell outa me. We ain’t nothing special. But here we are. And with great privilege and blessing comes great responsibility.

We have responsibility to speak out about the suffering of our brothers and sisters around the world, to remind each other daily of our blessings and of their need, to do something about it and to pray fervently and continuously for them. It may sound like a piddly, weak-hearted thing, but sometimes the greatest gift you could give someone is your fervent continual prayers. I cannot explain to you how it works – and this post is not the place to try – but I know from experience that prayer really does unleash God’s healing redeeming saving power on those who are the focus of your prayer.

We don’t need to remind each other of our own mortality. That is made far too obvious to all of us in the everyday minutia of our lives. It is so easy for me to get so sucked into picking lint out of my own navel! I don’t need encouragement from my spiritual Family to do more of that. What I do need is continual reminders that there is life outside Lu’s Little World. I need to step into a moment like the one Marti led and hear about my fellow followers of Jesus who are dying because of their unwavering commitment to Him.

And lets step out of religiosity for a moment… I need to be reminded there are children dying every day in Sudan, running for their very lives and praying for just one night of peaceful uninterrupted sleep. There are whole families dying from lack of food and potable water in Ethiopia and Somalia, ethnic groups persecuted and oppressed in China, parents fearing for their lives and the lives of their children in war-ravaged Iraq, innocent people dying in suicide bombings all over the world, women bought sold and horribly abused as sex slaves in Thailand, survivors of the tsunami still struggling to survive in Indonesia, families still living in squaller in New Orleans nearly two years after Katrina… The list goes on and on. I need to be reminded of these things. I need someone to tell me to get my head out of my ass and pay attention to the world, otherwise I will spend the rest of my life contemplating my own colon. And let me tell you, that is not a beautiful, life-affirming, God-honoring thing.

It’s part of the job of Leadership to steer us, focus us, on the Most Important and teach us by example and prodding to let go of the Not So Important. When someone is hurting, to them that is Most Important, and often they feel it needs to be most important to everyone. Indeed, to others around them it rightly ought to be. But as a whole community, whether we speak of our national community or our spiritual community, that individual hurt may not be The Most Important. We need leaders who can discern what is Most Important and can gently but firmly, with compassion for the individual hurts, keep us focused on that. Bush used to be that kind of leader. I think he slipped up here.

But Marti — well in you, my friend and once-leader, I have such great faith and confidence. You are a discerning and wise leader. Grief may cloud your personal vision right now, but God guides you even when you aren’t aware. I have no doubt you were able to determine His desire for that moment, and that God honored your willingness to wrestle with the question of what is Most Important.