Why Moms Need Second Chances

We were sitting at the dinner table when my husband asked me, “You read to Anna’s class today, right?”

I almost choked on my meatball.  I had completely forgotten to show up and read to the second graders.  And I had let Anna down.

Anna hadn’t mentioned it when I got home from work.  She hadn’t even acted like anything was bothering her.  She just looked up from her pasta and replied, “Well, my teacher wondered if you were coming.  I told her I didn’t know.”

Frankly, I didn’t have a good excuse.  I wasn’t out of town.  I didn’t have a client emergency.  It was even on my calendar.  Worse yet, Doug had reminded me about it the day before.   I can still hear him, “Don’t forget to show up Suz!”

I had simply forgot.

Before I could apologize, my 10-year-old, Nick, interrupted.  “Mom, not to be critical, but you never volunteer in my class anymore.  It seems like you’re always going to Anna’s class.”

“Nick, remember, I didn’t even show up to Anna’s class today!  Look guys, I’m doing my best.  You know how busy I am, and I’m really sorry.”

Anna didn’t yell at me.  She didn’t whine or complain.  She simply finished her dinner and said, “It’s ok Mom.”  

Later that night, I was putting Anna to bed, waiting for her to finish her usual prayers for world poverty, injustice, and the forgiveness of sins for all people.  Right after she prayed for Haiti and Japan, she slipped in a new line that caught me off guard. 

“And dear God, please help my teacher to give Mom a second chance.”

I couldn’t say “Amen” fast enough.

Social Networking Or Notworking?

Social media is a syringe that sucks time out of our daily work. In fact, some companies have banned social media from the workplace all together. And for good reason. Over half of all employees access their Facebook profiles at work, losing, on average, 15 minutes of productivity per day.


But wait. You might be surprised to hear that employees who use social media (also known as Tworkers) also tend to be the most productive. According to one university study, employees who surf the Internet at work, including social networks, are 9% more productive than their non-Internet surfing counterparts.

If you’re reading this, I’m guessing you (like me) classify yourself as a Tworker. Twokers are thinkers. Tworkers are resourceful. Tworkers know how to get it done. And everyone knows that Tworkers make better employees, right?

[To continue reading at The High Calling, click here.]

Would I Recognize Jesus?

Was Jesus just a good moral teacher, or is he really the Son of God?  Over 2000 years after his death, there is still debate about the true identity of Jesus.

Even in his own time, there was little consensus.

Surely, his own family recognized his true divinity, right?

Not exactly. Jesus’ family even questioned his sanity.

When his family heard about this, they went to take charge of him, for they said, “He is out of his mind.” – Mark 3: 21

But surely, the religious leaders recognized his spiritual authority, right?

Hardly. Rather than concluding he was crazy, they declared he was downright evil.

And the teachers of the law who came down from Jerusalem said, “He is possessed by Beelzebub! By the prince of demons he is driving out demons.” – Mark 3:22

No, it wasn’t the religious elite that recognized Jesus as the Son of God.  Instead, it was the unexpected – the uneducated, the fisherman, and even the prostitutes.  An unlikely group of followers.

I like to think of myself as educated. Even enlightened! Yet I wonder if I would have recognized Jesus 2000 years ago. If Jesus had asked me– as he asked Peter – who do you say that I am?  What would I say?

Many days, Jesus is right in my midst, but I still don't recognize him.   There are too many distractions blinding me.  Work. Home. Errands. Relationships. Duties.  In the midst of it all, I even worry that I've lost my spiritual sight. 

But today, on Maundy Thursday, I'm going to try hard to see him.  I'm going to look.  I'm going to listen.  I'm going to think about the bread and the wine and ask God to open my eyes.

I want my heart to burn. 

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When he was at the table with them, he took bread, gave thanks, broke it and began  to give it to them.  Then their eyes were opened and they recognized him, and he disappeared from their sight.  They asked each other, "Were not our hearts burning within us while he talked with us....?"  Luke 24: 30-32

Is It the Real Jesus or Fake Jesus?

Jesus enters Jerusalem with a bang.  After riding in on a donkey, did he keep a low profile and fly under the radar?  Not exactly.

Based on the gospel accounts, by Tuesday, Jesus was causing a scene in the heart of Jerusalem – in none other than the temple courts.

In fact, Jesus got angry, knocked over a few tables, and even disturbed the peace.

And Jesus went into the temple of God, and cast out all them that sold and bought in the temple, and overthrew the tables of the moneychangers, and the seats of them that sold doves, And said unto them, It is written, My house shall be called the house of prayer; but ye have made it a den of thieves. – Matthew 21:12-13

Ouch!  So much for not making waves.  Why was Jesus so angry?  Some would say that he was fed up with the religious system – a system that had become broken and corrupt.  A system that was charging the poor for “acceptable” temple sacrifices.  A system where the religious leaders made the rules and lined their own pockets.  A system where outward appearances had become more important than inward character. 

Sometimes I ask myself if our religious systems portray the real Jesus.

I'll never forget the first time I watched our church’s passion play with my then 3-year-old daughter, Abby.  She was completely taken with Jesus.  And she kept asking, Is that the real Jesus or the fake Jesus?

It’s a good question.  I think Jesus asked the same question when he looked at the religious people of his day.  Were they real or fake?  Did they act religious on the outside, but on the inside, were they filled with selfishness and greed?

When we look at our own Christian institutions today, do we find piety for the sake of piety --  a set of outward “rules” and an obsession with appearances (while the inside of the cup is full of hypocrisy and greed)? 

Or, do we see something that looks more like Jesus – humility, grace, and generosity to those in need?

In Abby’s words, do we look like the real Jesus or the fake Jesus?

Let's Get Ready For Holy Week!

The rest of this week, I plan to blog about Jesus. For those of you who read the blog and don’t share my faith, I’ll likely get back to more light-hearted rants next week. But this week – the final week of Jesus’ life on earth -- I just can’t help myself.

This week, it’s all about Jesus.

I’m part of a church that really knows how to celebrate Easter. We fast during Lent, put on passion plays, light candles, and roll out the red carpet on Easter Sunday. My kids are so excited they can hardly contain themselves. Sure, they love the candy and Easter eggs, but they know that Easter is about something much more important -- an eternal sacrifice and a risen Lord. (Besides, my girls are pretty freaked out by the Easter Bunny – just like Tooth Ferry Terror.)

For me, it’s not really about the ritual of Easter. It never has been. It’s a celebration of a person. It’s about mourning the loss of your best friend, only to find out that he’s not only alive – he’s right here in your midst.

And he laid his life down for you so you can be by his side for all eternity.

This week is the most important week in Christian history. Yesterday, we celebrated Palm Sunday. Jesus leaves Bethany (where he has just raised Lazarus from the dead), stops in a little village to pick up a donkey that had never been riden before, and enters Jerusalem.   This is the only time Jesus rides on an animal during his public ministry.  Up until now, he walked everywhere (pretty interesting, huh?).

He must be up to something.

The road from Bethany to Jerusalem is only about two miles, yet this final week of Jesus’ life takes up more space than all the other events of the four New Testament gospels (combined). The plot thickens, Jesus enters Jerusalem to face his accusers, and ultimately faces death.

Will you join me on the journey?

What’s Worse In Restaurants – Small Children or Mean Women?

Let’s face it, loud obnoxious children can ruin a meal.  Your meal.   Which is why we try to take our kids to “family friendly” restaurants. 

On a recent family vacation, my husband and I walked into a poolside grill (highly rated by Trip Advisor) and noticed a sign that read:

“Unattended children will be given free espresso and a puppy.”

Bingo.  Just our kind of place.  Good food and kid friendly.  We crowded around a small table with our three kids and ordered drinks.

Then I saw her.

Evil Eye Woman who obviously can’t stand children. 

I’m used to a few stares, some eye rolling, even a glare or two.  But this was different.  If looks could kill, we’d all be dead.

I quickly concluded several things about Evil Eye Woman.  First, it wasn’t just my kids she didn’t like.  She didn’t like kids period.  She didn’t like people period.  She’s just one of those people who is just plain miserable.

I know, I shouldn’t judge Evil Eye Woman.  But she was really starting to get under my skin.  When my 7-year-old daughter, Anna, scooted her chair and almost bumped into her, Evil Eye Woman even snarled.  At my lovely daughter!

How could I avoid an encounter?  I thought through the possibilities of what I might say. 

• “What’s your problem lady, this is a kid-friendly restaurant, if you don’t like it, leave!”
• “I noticed that you seem pretty miserable, did you know that God loves you and offers a wonderful plan for your life?”
• “Excuse me, you seem pretty uncomfortable sitting by my children, would you mind if I asked the waitress to put you at a new table?”

None of these options seemed quite right.  Then, it dawned on me.  She didn’t have to ruin my meal.  I could have the last word.

I turned to my husband and said, “Here’s the good news about dinner.  This woman has inspired me to write a blog!”

He just rolled his eyes.  

Joy (Even On A Monday)

I was driving home from work, sitting in annoying traffic, when I couldn’t help but notice the guy in front of me.

He was jamming.

So I looked closer.  Who was this mad man behind me with the shaking car?  He looked middle aged (even balding from behind).  He was wearing a suit and glasses.  And he was singing at the top of his lungs, dancing in seated position.

Mind you, this was a Monday, not a Friday.  The sun wasn’t shining.  The stock market wasn’t soaring.  Traffic wasn’t moving.

But he was joyful about something.  I thought about the possible options:

1)  He had a really good day at work;
2)  He had a really bad day at work and he was trying to forget about it;
3)  He just quit his job;
4)  He’s losing his mind;
5)  He’s a joyful person.

I wanted to get out of my car and ask him, but the traffic started moving again.  So I’ll never know.

I turned up the radio and started to sing.

********
Be joyful always; pray continuously; in everything give thanks.  Even on a Monday.

Why I Don’t Do Social Media Guilt

If you’ve hung around this blog at all, you know that I’m a big fan of grace, not guilt.

Which is why I’ve decided to say NO to social media guilt.

There are already too many things in this life to feel guilty about.

When it comes to blogging, I never have time to read all the posts I want to read.  And I never have time to comment on all the posts I do read. I constantly neglect my Facebook friends.  And I forget to thank my fellow Tweeters for mentions and re-Tweets.

But I don’t lie awake at night worrying about it.

Now I might lie awake worrying about other things --  like the bad mommy complex, how my kids are doing in school, a deadline at work, or forgetting to send cards to people who are sick – but social media worries are near the bottom of the list (right behind forgetting to discard the expired milk in the frig). 

Who needs another guilt trip?

Not me.

Do you need to let go of some blogging (or other) guilt?

Guilt drains.

Grace fills.

When Boys Pray

Nick’s 10th birthday party was in full swing when when a minor crisis ensued.  In the midst of an intense dart gun game that spanned half the neighborhood, Nick’s friend Dillon lost his glasses.  I could see the panic on his face.

“These glasses cost $300!  My mom is going to kill me.  They fell right out of my pocket.”

The game stopped.  The party stopped.  And we looked everywhere.

Doug and I helped the boys comb the nearby yards inch by inch.  We looked in the street.  In the bushes.  Even in Dillon’s pocket.  But the glasses were no where to be found.

I could feel God nudging me. [Note to readers:  I did not hear God speak out loud.  There have been only a handful of times in my life when I think he is speaking to my heart.  This was one of them.  I am not crazy.]

God:  Susan, gather these boys together and pray out loud.  Let them experience the power of prayer.  Give faith a chance.

Susan:  [Intentionally ignores God.]

God:  Susan, I’m talking to you. 

Susan:  I hear you.  But what if we don’t find them.  Besides, I don’t even know some of these boys.  I’m going to embarrass Nick and his friends are going to think his mom is a whack job.

[God is silent, and Susan’s heart continues to burn.]

Susan:  Ok God, you win.  But don’t blame me if we don’t find these glasses.

Before I could change my mind I blurted out, “Ok boys, gather around.  We’re going to find these glasses.  For those of you who are comfortable, I want you to agree with me in prayer.  Watch and see what God can do.”

[Susan: Ok God, there’s no turning back now.  And why did you let me add that last line in?  I sound like a religious fanatic!]

A couple of boys bowed their heads.  A few snickered.  One of them said under his breath, “I can’t believe we are doing this.”

I continued rather loudly. After all, since I had pulled the trigger, I might as well go for the gusto. “God, we don’t know where these glasses are.  We’ve looked and we can’t find them.  You know where they are God.  Open our eyes.  Show us.  In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.”

Less than 30 seconds passed when Nick’s cousin Peter shouted out, “I found them.  The glasses are right here!”

I watched Dillon smile.  Another boy exclaimed, “It’s a miracle!”

I bet God smiled even bigger.