Those who taught ME in my 1st semester as a professor

We spent every Tuesday together, from the wee hours, up to our ears in bodily fluids and call lights and buckets of 0800 meds. Oftentimes I felt less like their guide into the world of clinical nursing practice, and more like a visitor on a unique and ethereal journey of 8 souls finding wings. Beyond the confines of the procedures and the protocols, I witnessed everyday miracles as they learned to love people at their most unlovable moments, to reach deep within themselves and toss away pride to get down on their knees next to someone's bed to offer a moment of comfort in a time of deepest sadness, to cry with someone who is crying, to laugh with someone who is laughing, to find a way to form words with someone who cannot speak.

They all have vastly different personalities...the class clown, the workaholic, the information geek, the helper, the girl with her ear always tuned for the code calls, the quiet one, the advocate, the one with a heart for kids. In 10 short weeks, I had the blessing of looking deeper into their lives, their passions, their hopes and their dreams. But it wasn't they who emerged changed and blessed...it was me. It is the great gift of teaching, that you embark forever on lifelong learning, a journey of constant discovery, a million "I don't know the answer" moments when you hunt for information right along with your students. A chance to stay abreast of every technical advancement, every scientific discovery, and every new way to bring comfort to the bedsides of hurting people, who we will always have with us.

It's been an amazing semester. One I am sorry to say goodbye to (although winter break is luring me in!). I can't wait to dress up in my regalia for the graduation ceremony in May 2014 when these eight girls walk across the stage and join me as peers in our grand profession that is half art and half science, the perfect union of left-brain, right-brain...and watch them as they reach for the stars in the many years to come.

Thank you, section 314, for taking me along on your incredible journey this semester!

Dustpan devotional

It is a hot Saturday afternoon, and I invade their bedroom like the wind before a storm. How did it get so messy, after I just decluttered it a month ago? I wade through dirty laundry, picture books, discarded game pieces and noisy toys with flashing lights gone silent from dead batteries. Two fans have fallen out of windows and lie broken. I arm myself with plastic garbage bags, broom, a sigh of resignation.

I come upon a dirty little pink purse Rosy, my girly girl, has played with since she was a babe. This is where it gets hard. She has about a dozen purses, way too many for a small girl. But choosing which beloved ones to throw or give away? Tough for a tender mother's heart! This one has permanent marker all over it, and I know it has to go. But inside are white feathers she saved from angels wings she wore in a Christmas pageant 2 years ago. I hear the distant thumping of some tribal drum of childhood, as if I am intruder on the sacred, tearing down some structure of the child's heart as I toss things willy-nilly. I save the feathers, toss the purse.

I pause, pray, sigh, continue.

Everything left in this room is "good". Everything works, I've already sorted through it once or twice. There are no broken toys, no missing pieces, no bad authors...just worn out batteries and too much of a good thing. This is where it gets difficult...sorting out what matters from what is good. Dr. Suess: good. But I'd rather keep "Green Eggs and Ham" than "Oh, the Places You Will Go!"

It's so in my spiritual life, too. I'm 33, and I've been on this path for years. Sometimes I've wandered around in the woods, of course. But as you keep going over the same verses, praying over the same faults, working on the same character flaws, you begin to get down to the fine-tooth comb of life. Sorting sometimes becomes a matter of discerning between the good and the significant. I feel this way often as I prioritize in the arena of family life. Activities for the children - good or significant? Ways we spend our time or money - good or significant?

Our longing for something real, something meaningful, can be so intense at times. Even surrounded by our families, we can feel like we're just jumping through the hoops of our day. Mealtimes, bathtimes, bedtimes- check, check, check. But have we connected on a spiritual, relational level with any of these people buzzing around us today? I heard an analogy of the fish who hears about this amazing thing called water and swims all over the lake asking everyone he meets, "Where's the water? Have you seen the water?" It is as invisible to him as the air we breathe is to us. Perhaps it is so with God. We search all our lives for a meaningful connection with God, and in the vast empty void of the universe, we feel isolated and alone, as if He is never quite present with us. But the reason we can't see Him is because He is behind, above, around, and within. He is the very air we breathe. 

I trust that, as I continue to comb through our home and lives with an increasingly sharper focus, the real and significant will shine out, like the real quarters that caught the sunlight as they were about to make their way into the dustpan along with plastic coins from a Melissa & Doug money set. We, too, are made of silver, and we live in the refiner's fire, continually being skimmed of the dross and growing more and more brilliant and beautiful with each passing day lived out under His loving attention.

For he is like a refiner’s fire and like fullers’ soap. He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver, and he will purify the sons of Levi and refine them like gold and silver, and they will bring offerings in righteousness to the Lord. (Malachi 3:2-3)

Linked with Joy

Whatever you do to the least of these: Shunning Part 1

A friend loves at all times,

and a brother is born for adversity.

Proverbs 17:17

Every time they fight, I remind them, "Don't forget. Your sister is your best friend, and she will be for the rest of your life." This has always been true. But never more true than the past two years.

I left the church silently and by increments between age 14 and age 18 due to the child abuse I suffered in the church. I didn't walk through church doors again until my brother, part of a college church plant, begged me to bring my piano fingers to his band in 2001, when I was 22. I didn't start attending on a regular basis until my first child was a toddler, when I was 26. And I didn't open my heart to others at a church until I was 28 and diagnosed with cancer. Still, I held people at arms length. I felt like their prayers and their support were conditional, as though I was often in the position of supporting them emotionally rather than vice versa. Something finally changed around 2009, when God sent two particular women I never would have pictured being friends with into my church and I dropped my guard. And so, 16 years after I started holding everyone at arms length, I finally held someone close again. I opened up my home. I went into homes. I even napped at a friend's home. I spent long lazy afternoons with friends. It was one golden year of Christian community.

And then the other shoe dropped. Accused of a sin neither my husband nor I felt convicted of committing, we were slowly but surely expelled from our community in a cloud of foggy accusations coupled with affirmations of conditional love - if only we would repent, we would be welcomed back with open arms.

When all was said and done, the entire church was instructed to completely avoid us - in person, online, on Facebook - even to stop reading my blog. We found ourselves completely alone. We used to entertain frequently. We were left with no one to entertain. One by one, our friends dropped out of our lives, some with painful goodbyes, some with a simple "unfriending" on Facebook and silence. Many nights, when we went into the children's room for evening prayers, we had to deliver the news that another family that included some of their closest friends had chosen to stop contact with our family. There are no words for how devastating those conversations were - for us as parents, or for them as children. How do you explain to children - ages 6, 5, 4 and 2 - that their friends can't be their friends anymore, simply because we no longer attend the same church? Because their parents think that Mama and Papa did something sinful?

We brainstormed together, with the kids. We joined a 4-H club. We signed them up for summer ball clubs. We go to homeschool events and weekly homeschool physical education and swimming classes. We called neighbors to try to establish more regular visits. But there is only one set of homeschooling neighbors - and their girls are 5 and 8 years older than my eldest. There is only one other family in the neighborhood - all boys, and their parents prefer to be left to themselves, like a lot of people who choose to live in the country. Two years have gone by, and none of my children have a single friend within their age group outside our family. Not one.

I've watched my children hide themselves in public, draw themselves inward. Try to blend in. Hide their individuality under a facade of "sameness". Listen for a long time and then try to strike up conversations around what they've heard the other kids talking about. They're afraid to be outsiders. Individuals. Free thinkers. I hate that. I hate what this has done to them. They have always been free spirits. I don't ever want them to feel like they need to conform to make friends. I also see them turning into loners, kind of like me. My oldest daughter especially has a "devil may care" attitude about friendships these days. Who needs 'em? If they don't need me, I'm fine without them, I can see it in her face. At her coach pitch games, she's a star athlete, and she should be one of the crowd. But the rest of her team is joking around on the bench, and she stands hugging the fence, intent on the action, ignoring their antics. Building up her walls. I want to go in there with a sledgehammer and break down her walls and show all of them her beautiful, tender, intelligent, funny heart. I want her to whip out one of her hilarious accents for them, or tell her to do one of her practical jokes. Because she'd make a great friend! The truth is, she has to work through the wounds inflicted on her just like I have to work through mine. And I have to remember that God can heal her just like He can heal me.

We're part of a church now. Real members. We plan to be there for a long time. The youth ministry is thriving, and the kids are happy with the size of their classes. They talk a lot about the loud, rowdy boys. I have one friend from "before church" who attends there, and there's hope for an emerging friendship with her family. Will it materialize? Can I overcome my fear of developing another friendship within the context of church, where I've been burned so badly twice now? Last time it took me 16 years to overcome my doubts and fears. I simply can't afford so long a healing this time around. I owe it to my kids to trust God again sooner. But the heart is slow to do what the mind may quickly realize.

I still have this question: are church friends really friends? Friends who love at all times? Wouldn't a true friend love me when I'm sinning, wouldn't a true friend love me no matter where I go to church? Wouldn't a true friend understand how deeply and irrevocably shunning damages me and, even more importantly, my tender and innocent children?

And deep in my heart, the most painful question is: if you can't love these kids of mine, these sweet, funny, endearing, beautiful, gregarious kids of mine, how could you possibly love me?

The friends that by God's grace are left - the "brothers born for adversity" - sisters and cousins.

This week, we're going to take a deeper look at the practice of shunning in the Christian church. You'll hear a little more about my experience, along with the experiences of several guest writers who have their own stories to tell. What have your experiences been with shunning in the church? Have you been shunned? Have you ever participated in shunning someone? What is your take on Matthew 18? Have you ever thought about how shunning affects children?

If you'd like to join, link up with a post old or new about your own experience with shunning in the church below. Please include the community graphic in your post so we can find each other.

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