Sips of faithful care
Stirs of always there
Sweeps of stay a while
Folds of tender smile
Wonder cries a mystery
Under skies so blistery
Stitched anew by tearing
Hitched to you by wearing
Heart on a sleeve
Start to believe
Trails of salty bearing
There is something I would like you to know about me. Well, you may already know it. I am rather optimistic. Some might call it idealistic. I recognize that over-zealous positivity could be quite annoying for the realist, but genuinely, I cannot help it. Which is why I tend to isolate myself when I feel really down. I don’t want the sadness I am swimming in to seep into others. It has taken me years and years to understand that not everyone experiences emotions like I do. What a relief. A world filled with people like me would be chaotic…colorful and intense, but definitely chaotic.
I appreciate our differences and respect the thoughts and feelings of others. This is why it can be challenging for me to make certain decisions. Example: I like to wear perfume on occasion. I am too cheap to wear expensive perfume everyday, but I am a lady and I like to smell nice. Here is what I don’t like. I don’t like getting into the minivan with my not-so-mini family, all dressed up and feeling good about myself, and immediately hearing, “What is that awful smell?” That awful smell is me. Well, not me…my perfume, but since I am so sensitive and attached to my environment, I take it personally.
I stink…in the opinion of some of my most beloved people. And I can’t handle that. My solution? All of you who have to ride in a van with me when we go some place nice need to come with me to the mall on Mother’s Day and help me pick out a perfume. ALL OF YOU! Now, opinionate and expressive ones, you must peruse these counters and spray these bottles and sniff these samples and help me choose a scent you can all tolerate. All of you must participate. I will find something I like and let you share your opinion. Do not look at that counter over there. We are a family of seven on one income, that counter is not for us. Back over here. We have narrowed it down. Yes! we found one that no one will complain about. Mission accomplished.
This process also translates to my art. I really love abstract art, but it is a bit of a reach for some of my household. Impressionism seems to be a happy middle for us. I like to make art because original work is expensive and as I mentioned earlier, I am cheap. When a friend gave us a canvas that she no longer wanted, I received it with delight. I could scrape off the plastic gems and paint over it.
I painted in my basement in short installments between loads of laundry and trips to the freezer for dinner options.
This is the result.
I showed it to my family, bracing myself for critique. One member thought it was a whale. Ok. Not sure how you got that, but I do appreciate that you are taking the time to look at my painting and thinking of something other than your girlfriend and calculus. The response from the majority was positive, so Daniel hung it on the wall for me.
Yes! I am able to make art that I can put on the walls of my home and feel good about because no one who lives here seems to think it stinks. A victory! It look me a long time to get here, but I kept at it because deep down I am an eternal optimist and I believed, not only could something be found that would work for all of us, but that I could make it. It is a great feeling.
That was a lot of work, to considered the preferences of only six others. Imagine the work of our public servants who are genuinely considering the needs, wants and preferences of hundreds, thousands, millions. How do they do it? Many don’t, but some do and I am grateful for them. Way to make it political, Kara. Don’t forget, politics is people and I LOVE people.
Today as I was praying about what to share, I found an ancient file on my computer. The following words are from my personal journal dated April 16, 2003. I have chosen not to make any edits or corrections or clarifications. This is simply me at the age of 24.
Jesus, I am longing to be close, but I still don’t know what to do with myself if I don’t feel anything. I know your love is constant. I know that you are building something in me during the times when I don’t feel anything. How am I to respond? What can I identify with? I know it is about who I am and not just what I do. How can I love you in this moment? How can I draw closer to your heart?
Close your eyes. Listen with our heart. What do you hear?
Myslef sneezing.
Listen with your heart.
When I listen, I hear “I love you.”
That is my heart.
That’s it? I love you. Isn’t there something more? Some secret? Some mystery?
My love contains all the secrets and mystery your heart is longing for. Kara you say it but you don’t live it. You say, “If is sat on my butt all day it would not change God’s love for me.” But still you live in shame and fear. Shackled by your own perceptions of my love. Come away with me. I will show you secrets and mysteries. I will show you my love.
Where are we going?
To a quiet place. To a listening place.
I hear water.
It is my waterfall of love. Would you like to take a swim?
Oh Yes! The pool at the base of the falls looks so divine.
It is! But you cannot get in there. You have to start in the river. The only way into the pool is through the waterfall.
You mean you want me to go down the waterfall?
Yes! I will go with you.
I am afraid.
Don’t be.
How do I not be afraid? This is terrifying!
Take my hand.
I can’t do this. I don’t want to get hurt.
Do you trust me?
I don’t know. I can say it, but when it is time to act on it I have fear and doubt.
What do you doubt? Do you doubt me? Do you doubt my goodness, my love for you?
No. I doubt myself. If I get separated from you when we jump, I don’t know what I will do?
I will not let go of you.
I know but what if it feels like you have let go?
Do you see?
Yes, I see. It is the feeling. You are taking me beyond the feeling to faith. Is this why you don’t let me feel you sometimes? So that my faith will grow? It is hard, but your ways are good and I can see that.
Kara.
Yes?
I love you!
I know. I feel it. It is so strong it hurts. Nothing I do can change your love. Nothing I do will make you love me more. Nothing I do will make you love me less. So constant. So unmoving. Thank you!
Love my neighbor.
That’s a big one. It’s simple and pretty easy for most of my block because we aren’t the new kids and years of kindness reaps a sweet harvest. However, there always seems to be that one neighbor who offers us the opportunity to take our mission of meekness to the next level.
The tension was as palpable as the sweat running down my back when I mowed the front yard in Hazard Sister attire just to duke it out with Watermelon Weeder. Trust me, I did not win that battle. My cellulite and sag can’t compete with Dolly meets Virginia Slim. But I did make my husband laugh, so, that counts for something.
The local law enforcement knows me as the mom of the hooligans who run amuck in the street, chalk graffiti on the cul-de-sac, kick it on the curb, and pollute the air with hip-hop. Yes, we are those people. Yes, she is that neighbor. She has called the cops on us a dozen times. No exaggeration. No violation. No citation. Just a conversation with a cop who has to show up any time a complaint is made. God bless our patient police!
My husband who is very calm and disciplined was pushed to his limit after years of compromising with Grumpy Gardener when she started hosing off the cul-de-sac while my kids were filling the pavement with colorful art and obstacle course. Chalk. It is just chalk on the common court! Our youngest came over to Daddy crying because she was terrified by Water Witch. At one point even our mild-mannered next door neighbor raised her voice. Oh no you didn’t! When Daddy and Nice Neighbor started yelling across the circle at Right-to-Bare-Hose, Chill Neighbors came up the hill to make sure everything was ok.
It was not.
Time passed. It is easy to avoid each other in winter.
When spring arrived, Dixie Digger was out again. Her flowers and weed seemed to be her only source of serenity.
The elephant poo hit the industrial box fan when we had a bunch of kids over in the spring to play street hockey. Shovel Sheba was filling her wheelbarrow when our ball happen to roll up onto her driveway.
Oh no! Holy Hostas! This woman was ticked. She approached me with all the rage a Mulch Mover can muster.
And I stood my ground – by kneeling right there in the middle of the cul-de-sac, with a group of girls behind me in shocked curiosity and a Snapping Dragon in front of me screeching threats and explicatives. As she hovered over me, yelling in my face, I looked down and said not a word, waiting for her to finish her angry tirade.
We left the street and played in the back yard. It would seem that Nasty Neighbor had won again, but lost battles are sometimes a dub in the character column.
My heart needed work. I was having unkind thoughts toward my neighbor. I wanted to blast the radio as I drove up our hill just to annoy her. Don’t laugh. My mini van may not have a sub woofer, but it can pump up the volume. Funny, but not kind. Plotting how to annoy someone is not a healthy track for my brain train.
We have a problem. And now it isn’t just Messers vs. Lawncare Lunatic. Other neighbors are involved because we plan to have a summer block party which we have every year (except the past two, which means we are especially excited to have it this year). Where does the block part take place? You got it. The cul-de-sac.
Crazy Cutoffs marched down the hill to Chill Neighbors and stirred up strife. This block party was not going to happened and she would do everything in her power to stop it.
I was done.
Please don’t come at my friend, who extends grace and kindness and thoughtful consideration to everyone she meets; please don’t spew your hatred at her, just because you have beef with me.
I was undone.
Daniel and I talked. He suggested that maybe he could write a letter to Block Basher to possibly smooth things over. What a good heart he has!
Conviction.
My heart was not in the right place and my precious neighbors were experiencing turmoil because I was not pursuing peace.
Love my neighbor. Yes, Lord, but how?
So I prayed. I confessed in the wee hours of the morning to my Jesus who endured the shame of the cross and conquered death so I could know peace. He spoke forgiveness and love over the soldiers who mocked and battered him. He forgives them and me and all, so I must forgive. I will forgive because he loves me and I love him and I will do it for him because he is my friend. I will forgive my neighbor and ask Jesus to help me bring peace.
A letter. Daniel mentioned a letter. I could write a letter.
And so, I wrote a letter.
I shared the letter with Daniel and he blessed me to deliver it.
And so I delivered the letter.
I walked across the cul-de-sac sea to deliver a message of restoration. My plan was to place the letter in the newspaper slot of her mailbox, but Almighty God was working up something swifter.
My neighbor happened to open her front door just as I was approaching her mailbox at the end of her driveway. I extended my hands in a gesture of goodwill and offered the letter. She met me in the middle of her driveway and accepted the letter without a word, so I turned to return to the love and comfort of my home.
Mere minutes later, there was a knock at our front door. It was the neighbor. I looked to Daniel, who fortified my soul with his nod of understanding and I stepped out onto my porch.
She cried. I offered her a hug. She accepted it and cried some more. Amends were made. It was a miracle.
And the pendulum has swung. She brings me gifts, she gives my kids popsicles. She offers to host neighbor happy hour. She overwhelms our block with overcompensation. Years of accumulated hostility suddenly surrendered could have that affect on a person.
“Kara, what did you do?”
“I wrote a letter.”
That’s the simple answer to the simple question, but I think there is a better question:
What did Jesus do?
What did he do then and what is he doing now?
Love my neighbor. Yes, Lord. I will.
She will search the shore
For hints of distant moor
With ruins at her feet
A rule she cannot meet
In shells and vessels smoothed
By swells of nestled brood
To swim and fly in salt
Or brim and die at fault
Misty is the glass
Foggy is the past
Rarely will it last
A straight and standing mast
Water drinks the wood
Daughter thinks she could
Find a sea of meaning
In this ocean teeming
Waiting at the edge
Where ripple is the ledge
Postured for a sail
Wind will stir the vale
The key washes up
Waves fill her cup
Roaring through her voice
Gale and zephyr hoist
Deep has given gold
Woman measures bold
The islands will be tolled
And gather to the fold
Messy Karaoke 