when life just doesn't add up {guest post lauren}

Lauren is someone I know via Twitter, and I'm glad to host her words here today. She gives voice to some of the difficulties of reconciling the faith we inherited as kids with the frayed-edge realities of adult life, and I think it will be a familiar story to many. It was for me. Thanks, Lauren.

I’ve been angry with God. I don’t know the day it started. I didn’t even realize it until recently. What I know is that some dark, unrelenting force has been lurking under every experience, every joyful moment, every thought for more than a year. The crux of it is this: this is not the life I feel I was promised. I sacrificed and waited, prayed and fasted, casted my cares, and praised my way through. And I’m still not where I imagined I would be. I still haven’t come to terms with the fact that life isn’t fair.

Growing up, we were in church almost every day. Sunday morning. Sunday evening. Prayer on Monday and Tuesday nights. Bible Study on Wednesdays. Youth activities on Saturdays. Underneath all the scripture, books, classes, sermons, lectures, hugs, corrections and honest-to-goodness love, I got this message: Do the right thing, and you will get the right life. Along the way, I made some bad decisions. I wasn’t perfect; I felt like I was punished accordingly. I also saw the ‘saints’ talk about (and sometimes experience) difficult times, like death, divorce, and unemployment. But I still knew, I mean truly believed to my core, that ultimately, if I would just obey God’s word, I would have a good life with mostly joy, mostly stability, mostly peace. Depression would be a thing of the past. Resentment would be something that only sinners felt. Being broke? Oh no. That was clearly a judgement for people who were of reprobate mind…and neglected to pay their tithes. Definitely not for me.

When it comes right down to it, I guess justice and logic have been my guiding lights. 1+1=2. Ice cream and cheese cause gas. Sinners go to hell. You know, things that make sense. But my God, was that wrong. I mean, for one thing, I can eat Kraft Mac & Cheese with no problem, but no Sonic milkshakes?!

Cognitive dissonance is the state of having inconsistent thoughts, beliefs, or attitudes. Seeing Trayvon Martin’s murderer walk free is one violent example of cognitive dissonance for me. On the one hand, I was taught America was a country of justice, freedom, and brave men. On the other hand, I saw a coward shoot an unarmed teenager through the heart and receive no punishment. How could this be? In my mind, I still struggle with it. One of these has to be wrong. America is bad and killers walk among us? It's a struggle to come to terms with these types of injustices. Nuances aside, wrong is still dead ass wrong.

So with my faith, I really still have not been able to settle in my heart that "Doing the right thing" may not lead to "A good life." Perhaps it’s my foolish Millennial optimism. Perhaps my reasoning skills are amiss. I certainly have sin I haven’t acknowledged or repented for. Whatever it is, the discontent led to an abiding anger with God, and this, of course, led to more poor decisions. But it also led me to re-align my understanding of the world. God probably hasn’t sent disease to punish the wicked. The rapture, as I learned it, may be myth. Unfortunately, dairy still causes awful tummy-aches. I’m still driven by logic, but I question more--and I allow room for more than one right answer.

Still, I kind of keep expecting God to swoop down out of the clouds, say “Just kidding!” and give me my husband, 2.5 children, big bank account, and endless joy. I think, “Fellowship of suffering, got it, now give me my REAL life!” I don’t know if any of this will ever truly make sense to me. Some part of me will probably always feel like I “deserve” more (ignoring my wildly inflated sense of self-righteousness).

But I’m slowly (and I mean snail’s pace) learning to build a life of what is, not what could have been or what was supposed to be. I’m thanking God through hot, reluctant tears and an angry heart because I know, This is my good life. It will never ever be easy, I will probably always battle depression and loneliness, and nobody is going to rescue me, even if I’m really, really faithful. God still loves me, and I believe no tear falls in vain. I’ll shake my metaphorical fist toward heaven, twist and rail against God’s tight grip and collapse from emotional exhaustion, but He won’t let me go.

Lauren lives & works in SC. She loves Jesus, food, nieces, and science fiction. She's working daily to decolonize her own mind as well as the minds of those around her. You can follow her on Twitter @whimsikal.

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Found: A Story of Questions, Grace & Everyday Prayer

I met Micha Boyett the first time I attended the Festival of Faith and Writing in 2012. I'd long admired her blog writing and enjoyed hearing firsthand about her book project, which although mostly drafted, was far from making its way out into the world.

Just two years later, at that same conference, I had my own copy of her published work in hand and was able to congratulate her in person. Found: A Story of Questions, Grace & Everyday Prayeris one of the loveliest books I read last year. It's partly about finding a home in the rhythms of the liturgical year, which is why She Loves Magazine chose it for their book club during Lent this March.

I enjoyed the beautiful writing and resonated with Micha's struggle to find meaning in the lonely ordinariness of young motherhood, particularly after the harried pace and purpose of professional ministry. Others would certainly connect with the perfectionist anxieties she documents and her search for peace in God apart from the try-hard faith of her youth.

It's a book about an honest and at times uncertain faith with deep roots and room enough to breathe, grieve, and celebrate big joys and little victories. If you want to read along with She Loves, they've got a Facebook group and they'll be talking about it on March 25 at the site. Happy reading.

the gift of ordinary time

Like the moon orders the tides, the horizon draws seekers to the shore’s edge each evening at sunset. The pull is magnetic and almost liturgical in its rhythm. From our vacation perch atop this tree-lined street, we watch the pilgrims flock. Neighbors appear on porches, cradling drinks, eyes trained westward. Kids abandon bikes where the sidewalk ends. Spilling out of cars and homes and on foot, they head for the sea, casting off shoes in the dunes. Where sand and sky kiss surf is holy ground. We pause together, bearing witness to the beauty which descends like clockwork and grace.

The sun is a dazzling ball of pink, with clouds aflame in orange and regal purple. Times Square’s yearly ritual has nothing on this globe’s daily descent into the Delaware Bay at dusk. Its regularity can’t diminish its magnificence, and I’m struck by how infrequently I honor this pause. The sun sets, of course, each night at home, but I barely realize it most nights in the shuffle of putting the kids to bed or getting dinner on the table.

My spirit awakens to the weekly rhythms of worship, prayer, and sacrament. I welcome the turn of the seasons in creation, church, and culture alike. Summer peaches. Back-to-school shoes. Fall festivals. Advent waiting. Christmas feasting. New Year promise. Winter quiet. Lenten fasts. Spring crocuses. Easter hope. Pentecost revival. Ordinary Time.

It’s the daily rituals my heart is missing lately, the ordinary ones, like stopping it all to watch the sun paint the sky amethyst and tangerine. A summer of travel and camp ministry has left me a bit adrift, and I’m longing for the anchor and stability of quotidian rhythms. A cup of coffee savored. Laundry folded and put away. Meals shared. Compline and kisses goodnight. Less hurry and distraction and more awareness of thin places.

“Every day, this One offers gifts–life, light, and hours in which to work and eat and love and rest–and invites humankind to join in the ongoing work of caring for creation and all who dwell therein. The same One also continues, each day, the work of new creation: the work of forgiving and reconciling and restoring wholeness. This too we are invited to enter, both as ones who stand in need of this divine work and as partners in it.

The Christian practice of receiving the day calls us to remember these truths with frequency and regularity. Forgetting them is costly. […] The practice of receiving the day is the cluster of activities that enable Christians to offer attention, daily, to the gracious presence and activity of God.”

Dorothy C. Bass, Receiving the Day: Christian Practices for Opening the Gift of Time

Confident of mercies new each morning, we’ll pilgrimage together, hearts expectant of quiet beauty, deep need, and great grace.

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so beautiful it hurts to look at you

April's end is fling-wide-the-windows
coffee on the porch
lunch al fresco and
honest to goodness dandelion-and-dogwood
Spring, God be praised.

Resurrection smells of fresh mown grass,
tastes sweet as blueberry ice cream.
We dig out bikes from the shed
and the dirt in the garden, sinking
bean poles that reach for the sky.
A new trail opens, we tie on sneakers and
emerge from hibernation. Stretching limbs we blink and
breathe in this new day, its dawning grace.

---

Western Pennsylvania winters encroach on fall and spring like choking vine. On my mopiest days, I am certain that we endure but two seasons here, Summer Camp and The Winter Of My Discontent, but the proof is in the pictures and the skip in my step today.

Spring has sprung. (Leeeeeaaaaaves!!!)

I'm playing along with HopefulLeigh's monthly What I'm Into link-up. This April I'm also down with:

• Morel mushrooms. Jim's been foraging, and we cook 'em in butter and garlic and YUM. 
• Chickens pecking about. (Less down with the fox who ate one just off our deck, though.)
• Three little piglets at the neighbors' house.
• Grilling season.
• Renew & Refine Retreat for Writers. I'm so excited to spend time learning and writing and having a little fun before summer camp wreaks its havoc. (And it's not too late to spend Memorial weekend with us...The code BREATHE gets you $25 off.)
• Mad Men. I still love that and Scandal. (There doesn't seem to be a lot else one right now, is there?) I mainlined two season of AMC's The Killing on Netflix in an embarrassingly short amount of time, and it's coming back for a third season soon. Jim thought it was slow, but I was hooked on the characters, emotional depth, and mystery.
• You already know I've been reading Bread & Wine, Carry On, Warrior, What It Is Is Beautiful, and The Mermaid of Brooklyn. I'm also reading (and LOVING) The Prophetic Imagination, but more on that another time--or better yet, head over to Kelley Nikondeha's for a week's worth of reflections.
• I used a birthday gift certificate to buy a weighted hippie-made hula hoop with fiery stripes. It seemed like the right thing to do. 
• Library story hour. I drop both kids off on Wednesday mornings for one glorious hour in which they are thoroughly charmed and I am blissfully uninterrupted. Magic, I tell ya.
• The kiddos are turning a corner. It's part timing and all grace, but we're hitting a stride. Dylan's not Too Old, and James isn't Too Little. We're out of diapers and babyhood but not yet in school, a fun place where they're little and "big" at all once, and they really are best friends. Hallelujah and Amen.

(an ongoing record of God's goodness, #400-423)

What's catching your eye and capturing your heart of late? (100 points for knowing to what my post title alludes.)

saving my life {& a pass-along book club?}

It's been a while since I've counted, and since I'm feeling a bit grumpy about the interminable cold and cooped-up-ness we got going here, I figured it was time to dust of the old list.

an ongoing record of God's goodness, #375-399

turning 33

breakfast in bed, reminiscing about our time in Napa last spring

a birthday afternoon at the spa (look OUT)

homemade carrot cake, cuz my man don't play

tapping trees

maple syrup and pancakes

sugar shack field trip with this guy

lenten soup suppers and

Compline

Friday fish fries

bold teachers and life lessons

daffodils prophesying life

Not Less Than Everything

fiction exploring a love of music and the sacred ordinary

Dylan reading up a storm

a real and true double date with real and true friends

new local wine bar in middle-of-nowhere-PA

kind friends to watch the babes

Call The Midwife (streaming free at pbs)

discovering Scandal, a show (sans teenagers and zombies) that Jim and I both enjoy

i sent my copy of Beyond The Impossible to Emily Maynard, and now i'm thinking how great a big cross-country book club would be. you mark up a book and mail it to the next person on this list. i participated in one like this years ago and loved it. who else would be down?

seeing a unicorn: my sparkling clean kitchen

singing along at the top of my lungs as I work

tiny feet getting their dance on

the Gathering Field

Where are you finding joy? Tell me something good. 

linking up with my girl HopefulLeigh's What I'm Into round-up

acedia & motherhood | exorcising the noonday demon

I don't think I'm cut out for this stay-at-home-mom gig.

You're not supposed to admit that, are you? I'm blessed and lucky to be able to stay home, so the least I can do is be grateful, right?

I am grateful. I love my kids fiercely. I loved being the one at home with them when they were tiny. But at three and five, they aren't tiny anymore, and I'm weary and poured out. 

Five years is a long time in the land of littles. 

--

We don't spank. God doesn't parent me with fear, threats, or force, and I don't want to either.

We listen with our ears.

We speak kind words.

We help with our hands.

We love each other.

These are our rules. We do love each other, but not always well. There are days in which we hurt as much as we help, and around here, listening is as elusive as a unicorn, or an errand by myself. It's difficult to be kind at top volume. A little bit louder and a Whole Lot Worse.

A hot, crimson rage fills my heart, love.

The fabled Mommy Wars are fought on two fronts: in the media, of course, but many days, the battle feels closer, under my roof. I feel foolish for believing that babywearing and breastfeeding could create a magical foundation of attachment, trust, and peace in my home.

I don't want to reinvent the wheel, but I don't know how others do it. If a child isn't naturally compliant or fearful of punishment, where is the incentive to abide by family rules or function as a team? I can't prevent and redirect every negative behavior of my own let alone all of theirs.

--

Deep down, I know that every Yes is a No to something else: a clean house, a play date, a quiet morning at home. But I keep joining. Staying too long. Committing to things whose season has waned. I hang on, just in case.

If I don't keep putting myself out there, this loneliness could be construed as entirely my own making.

--

There was that study last spring, about how stay-at-home-moms (especially low-income ones) experience more depression than working moms or women without kids at home. The findings familiar, my eyes brimmed. Mothering is emotionally exhausting. Without that village it so clearly takes--or the money to hire one--the isolation exacts its toll.

--

I saw a counselor once this summer. She had a lot of pointers.

I just needed to get out more. Date nights!

Writing might not be the best use of my time. Too solitary!

And she was the one, after I told her we didn't spank, who reminded me none-too-subtly about a certain Proverb's fondness for hitting kids with rods.

I wiped my eyes and nodded my head dumbly. So hungry was I for adult conversation that I made an appointment to return the next week.

But I didn't. I remembered my already-ample access to ill-suited advice from strangers, free-of-charge and called back to cancel. "You'll be fine," she assured understandingly and yet not at all. "You just need to get happy again."

--

I finished a book about acedia, the noonday demon, bane of solitaries, desert monastics, and apparently, stay-at-home-moms. It's a spiritual restlessness, different from clinical depression, but with similar markers: lethargy, languor, and lack of attention to the daily upkeep of life.

I'm still in deep. I confess it here, without tidy resolution, to say: I'm ready to work, to fight. Not my kids. Not my husband, not even myself, but the acedia. The creeping suspicion that if my best isn't good enough, then what's the point in trying at all? 

Work, gratitude, and prayer are all antidotes, and when I'm stuck like this, I shrink from all three. But I need them, blessed footholds to climb my way out. To live again as an actor in my own life. To fight hard against complacency and escapism. To be present to joy in hardship, purpose in monotony, and holy ground on the kitchen floor.

To not despise the day of small things.

{image source}

gratitude is the fairest blossom

A most blessed and happy Thanksgiving to you and yours. xo

image source: flickr.com via suzannah {the smitten word} on Pinterest

when copper leaves fall

When copper leaves fall, I hear winter whisper ice. Specters loom near of empty-limbed trees and barren months. Melancholy comes calling.

But I hold her at arms' length, leaning into rhythms of the calendar's turn, the steadfastness of the liturgical year. 

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven. Looking neither ahead nor back, I receive this day's blessings with gladness.

an ongoing record of God's goodness, #351-374

the return of Family Dinner, table for 13
good-natured laughter and becoming known
red wine season (Wait, is that not a thing?)

crunchy topped muffins, warm baked by Jim
spicy pumpkin soup with coconut, lime, and still-fresh basil
pumpkins on the porch, ready for roasting

the Fugitive Mud Run at camp and
the kids' godfather in town all week to set it up
old friends back to run and lend hands
900 adults remembering how to play like children

rainy playdates
lunch al fresco all the same

warm mugs of coffee
loose tea steeped and steaming

brand new Mumford & Sons
and Avett Brothers. happy sigh.

James rockin' himself right out of diapers
his new uniform: shirt/hoodie, underpants, babylegs, and quite often, Dylan's shoes

babes in rain boots
chickens pecking
hues of gold and fire

turning over new leaves as they fall
embracing autumn like a new year, an invitation to discipline and change

31 Days to Practice Peace (more on that soon)

What is blessing you this weekend?

Shared with Ann and the community at One Thousand Gifts.

Amazon affiliate links. As we do:) 6E6BC48ES6TU

cape may diamonds

At home, summer's twilight smells of pumpkins
roasting, spiced. Bonfires blaze to warm encroaching
autumn in Penn's woods; red-kissed trees and goldenrod
dot bittersweet September sunsets. But here,

honeysuckle tangles wild along the way we ride
our bikes, heady like still-ripe solstice
redolent of childhood: shoulders pinked,
glistening smooth edged shells and ice cream smiles.

Sand trails traipse from bed to beach and back
around. Sun warm paths to wide-eyed wonder,
heavy lidded slumber capping days lived hot.

against the night

4:30 found us on a deck chair, blanket-wrapped against the cold morning.  james' labored breathing quieted, slowing to a regular rhythm.  the light in the coop was on, but the road was dark and dawn a long way off.

he relaxed in my arms, knees up against my chest, like when he was tiny.  one plump cheek nestled into my shoulder, still damp for the force of the coughing.

sometimes, nothing calms like quiet winter.

their room was a sauna.  dueling humidifiers vaporized rainforest thick, scenting the air with tea tree oil.  it didn't much help, one cough echoing the other.  hers, heavy with cold and recovering from her own virus.  his loud like a wounded pup.

sickness strikes at the most inopportune times.  birthdays, holidays.  tonight, we'd cancelled a sitter, missed a rare evening out, and now jim was gone, traveling.

with dylan asleep upstairs, it was just me and boy-babe.  we held on and braced ourselves together against the night.

an ongoing record of God's goodness, #339-350

quiet moments with my rarely-still boy

a girl on the mend

recruiting faithful workers for a summer of plenty

children who still want to be close to their mama (even if i want to be alone)

a winter mild, promising tree-tapping before long

a mending Bride and a holy calling

generous love and laughter

grace for the sick days: extra stories

and movies,

cuddles,

popsicles, and

pjs all day

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have yourself a mary little christmas {part 5}

Do you remember the part in Catcher in the Rye when Holden goes to see the Rockettes Radio City Christmas show?

Old Jesus would've puked if he could see it.

Aspects of The Holidaze leave me feeling similarly at times.   The Incarnation--the most fantastic Story in which a baby Messiah is born to a teenage virgin and the Holy Spirit--somehow gets lost in a flurry of shopping, obligations and merry-making.

It will unless, of course, we purpose to keep Christ at the center of our celebrating.  We can choose to observe advent and the Spirit-working instead of The Christmas Season as prescribed by Santas and shopping malls.

And Mary said:

   “My soul glorifies the Lord

  and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,

for he has been mindful

   of the humble state of his servant.

From now on all generations will call me blessed,

  for the Mighty One has done great things for me—

   holy is his name.

 His mercy extends to those who fear him,

   from generation to generation.

 He has performed mighty deeds with his arm;

   he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts.

 He has brought down rulers from their thrones

   but has lifted up the humble.

 He has filled the hungry with good things

   but has sent the rich away empty.

 He has helped his servant Israel,

   remembering to be merciful

 to Abraham and his descendants forever,

   just as he promised our ancestors.” {Luke 1:46-55}

Mary, awaiting the birth of her son and King, reveals that Christmas isn't about stuff...or even family.  It's about worship, mercy and humility.  Jesus' Incarnation inverts worldly power structures:  we place our trust in a Savior born in a stable.  Emmanuel, God-with-us, takes fragile human form and condescends to have his diaper changed.

Perhaps our Christmas observances could stand a dose of humilty, too.  We'll need to create space for quiet reflection if we are to tear down our idols from their thrones.

When we fill our holiday tables and stockings this year, what if we lived out this legacy of filling the hungry with good things, too?  Advent Conspiracy is a movement that seeks to honor Christ by celebrating his birth another Way.  Their two minute video is worth the watch for sure:

Worship fully. Spend less. Give more. Love all.

The alternative gift catalogs highlighted below allow givers to purchase things like shares in a well and supply clean water to a whole village. These are a few bigger ones but many denominational missions organizations offer similar projects that are worth funding, too.

Goats provide nutrition and extra income that can grant access to education.  A bike can mean safe passage to vulnerable girls whose walks to school are not safe.  We can provide care and hope for girls who have been trafficked or fund a business that will enable a whole family to become self-sufficient.    If you have kids, picking presents out of these catalogs together can be a fun and tangible way to help re-orient Christmas toward worship and giving.  We have chickens, and my little ones love the idea of buying chickens and other animals that children across the world can chase, too.

International Justice Mission

World Vision

Heifer International

Oxfam

Here's to celebrating a holiday fit for a King born in a stable.  Holy is his name.

This is the final installment of a series about the intersection of 
faith, justice, consumerism and poverty. 

i am the 99 {part 1} 

i am the 1. {part 2} 

a theology of enough {part 3} 

Buy Less, Live More | 6 Practical Ways to Make A Difference With Your Dollar {part 4}

How does your family observe advent and Christmas? How do you keep consumerism from running amok in your home? How do you incorporate service into your celebrations?

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Buy Less, Live More | 6 Ways to Make A Difference With Your Dollar {part 4}

This post is fourth in a series about the intersection of  faith, justice, consumerism, and poverty. 

image: ndh

We've been talking about justice, global poverty, and faith, and I promised a practical sort of post. So what do we do? Where do we go from here? Then I dragged my feet and wondered, Who am I to write any of this? Our family is does not live this ethic perfectly, and I won't pretend to have all the answers. We're just learning and making changes as we go, and I invite you along this path as a fellow pilgrim, not an expert.

Figures estimate that the world's wealthiest 20% [that's us] consume 80% of its resources. Americans alone, who number only 5% of the world population consume a staggering quarter.

The truth is that we vote with our dollars, and every purchase is an opportunity to live another Way. We don't have to live off-the-grid: small changes add up, and even baby steps in the right direction make a difference.

Let's stop allowing apathy, greed, or fear of not doing enough keep us from doing anything at all. If we stop tending and propping up our idols they will fall.

We can do this: consume less that we all may live more.

1. Buy Less

That's obvious, but I'm talking about more than just the things which overflow our closets and shelves. What if we also considered the packaging our food came in and the resources used to produce and transport that? Would we buy in bulk? Would we make our own snacks instead of purchasing individually wrapped ones? Would we skip the take-out bag of trash and pack a lunch instead?

Reuse / Re-purpose. Glass jars hold leftovers as well as the plastic ones you buy, and they don't leech harmful chemicals. Old tee shirts and socks clean as well as disposable dusters and commercial bathroom wipes. Lidded snack containers can hold small toys, and the zippered bag the sheets came in gathers art supplies as well as any pencil case.

Repair. This one can be frustrating, since it's often cheaper to buy a whole new blender than to find the part to fix it, but if our family is able to keep something out of a landfill, we start there. Mending coats and shoes are often inexpensive repairs that breathe new life into old things. Part of curbing consumption is taking better care of the things that we already have. 

Do without. Who needs paper towels/napkins/plates? Wrapping paper. This season's newest clothing, decor, and gadgets. Stuff to hold stuff. Knickknacks. Our family is slowly learning to be more conscious of the items we allow into our home.

2. Buy Smart

Good deals often aren't if we look at the big picture. Cheap consumer goods are ultimately disposable, and the cheap labor who make them are treated similarly. While inexpensive toys break and clothes wear out, well-made goods may last many seasons--or generations. In the long run, cheap things that require replacing are more expensive and consume more resources--environmental and human--than those crafted to last.

Cheap reusables aren't doing the planet any favors either. Junk water bottles or grocery bags aren't better than the disposables they are meant to replace if they aren't made well. Invest in one nice travel mug instead of six crappy ones that are destined for the recycling bin.

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3. Buy Fair

"Fair Trade products are food or crafts that are produced under standards designed to end and prevent the poverty, sweatshop labor conditions, environmental degradation, etc that are endemic to the free trade “race to the bottom” that puts profits above people and the planet." (Global Exchange)

Fair trade items are not necessarily more expensive. Direct trade relationships minimize the distance between production and retail, ensuring better wages for workers and often keeping prices affordable for buyers. Fair trade shops like Gifts With Humanity and Lotus Jayne demonstrate how affordable, beautiful, and unique fair trade can be.

Most major U.S. chocolate manufacturers--including Nestle, Hersheys, Cadbury, and Mars--rely on child slavery. The story of coffee is similar. Buying fair trade ensures just wages and no child exploitation. We need to consider the votes we cast with our wallets: is our "need" for cheap chocolate or coffee more important than basic human rights?

{image source}

4. Buy Vintage

It's not just for hipsters and penny pinchers. Buying used is a fantastic way to reduce our consumer and carbon footprint. Scour craigslist and freecycle. Hit up consignment and yard sales. Check antique and thrift stores. Host a stuff swap with friends. One man's trash really is another's treasure, and many vintage items have more mileage in them than the brand-new, poorly made stuff lining shelves at big box stores.

If you're into previously-loved goodies, let people know. There seems to be a cultural taboo against giving used items, so if you're down with vintage, say so. It's silly to feel pressured to buy brand new gifts just because we think we should.

5. Buy Handmade (or DIY!)

There really is something special about a handmade gift. If you aren't crafty, can you bake presents for teachers or neighbors? Craft fairs and websites like Etsy are a treasure trove of one-of-a-kind toys, jewelry, artwork, clothing, home goods, body products, and more.
 
6. Buy Local

For every $100 spent in locally owned independent stores, $68 returns to the community through taxes, payroll, and other expenditures. If you spend that in a national chain, only $43 stays here. Spend it online and nothing comes home.  (3/50 Project)

Dollars do far more good in indie shops than in the big box stores that are most apt to put them out of business, so keep it local when you can.

Living Another Way

Healing from affluenza requires intentionality. Cancel the catalogs. Stop making mall runs "just to look."  Opt out of the daily deal emails that alert you to sales on stuff you don't need. If t.v. commercials and magazines feed a lust for stuff, cut 'em out.

It may be cliche, but possessions do have a way of possessing us, don't they? They more stuff we have, the more time we spend cleaning and maintaining it. Choosing to have less may mean having more time to play, serve, and enjoy--and more money to give away generously.  

Learning the grace of enough and living against the consumerist tide may just lead to real abundance, for ourselves and our world.

This post is fourth in a series about the intersection of  faith, justice, consumerism, and poverty. 

i am the 99 {part 1} 

i am the 1. {part 2} 

a theology of enough {part 3} 

Buy Less, Live More | 6 Ways to Make A Difference With Your Dollar {part 4}
have yourself a mary little christmas {part 5}

How do you "vote with your dollar"?  What changes have you made?  How do you fight your own consumerist tendencies or go about making more ethical purchasing decisions?  I would love to hear your thoughts.

a theology of enough {part 3}

We can end extreme poverty in our generation, but neither charity nor governmental will change the world.  Transformation must come from some place deeper.

American consumer appetites are unsustainable.  Our avarice perpetuates injustice while exploiting people and the earth.

It's not a secret, is it?  It's more like the elephant in the well-appointed room.  It grows wide like greed, and we pretend to ignore it, sipping nonfat lattes and nervously tapping laptops.

Guilt never moved a mountain, and it won't bridge the global divide either.  If we truly want to imagine another way, we're going to have to change our hearts--and move our feet.

A Theology of Enough

When I was at Relevant, Shaun Groves told the story of God providing manna in the wilderness for his beloved, ungrateful people.  It was a gift, and all the Israelites had to do was collect it from the ground where it appeared:

The Israelites did as they were told; some gathered much, some little. And when they measured it by the omer, the one who gathered much did not have too much, and the one who gathered little did not have too little. Everyone had gathered just as much as they needed. (Exodus 16:16-18)

God provided enough for each day's need.  If they attempted to hoard it, the manna became infested.

If we're honest, our habits have grown a bit maggoty too, haven't they?

The I Wants and I Deserves echo in my mind.  The sound is petulant and shrill, but I can't pretend it isn't my own voice clamoring More.

The thing about lust is that it promises things it cannot deliver.  There never really was joy in the getting.  A small buzz, yes, but the hangover's a bitch.

Somehow, more stuff always feels like less.

*****

Paul writes to encourage the church at Corinth to "excel in the grace of giving."  They've begun walking a generous path and he wants them to engage more deeply:

Our desire is not that others might be relieved while you are hard pressed, but that there might be equality. At the present time your plenty will supply what they need, so that in turn their plenty will supply what you need. The goal is equality, as it is written: “The one who gathered much did not have too much, and the one who gathered little did not have too little.” (2 Corinthians 8:13-15)

If we believe that each one bears the image of the Maker, no matter the geography, color or income, we can't keep gathering too much for ourselves.  Our plenty is more than sufficient to supply their need.  Grasping hands must let go if everyone is to have enough. 

You fool! This very night your life will be demanded from you. Then who will get what you have prepared for yourself? (Luke 12:20)

Can I trust God to provide like he promised, or will I hoard the excess until it rots in my hands?  Can I remember that abundant life isn't about possessions at all?  Will I be obedient to the call to carry a cross?

We've got some idols to raze, friends.

This is the third installment in a series about the intersection of 
faith, justice, consumerism and poverty. 

i am the 99 {part 1} 

i am the 1. {part 2} 

a theology of enough {part 3} 

Buy Less, Live More | 6 Practical Ways to Make A Difference With Your Dollar {part 4}
have yourself a mary little christmas {part 5}

{image source}

 

i am the 1. {part 2}

{Part 1 addressed Occupy Wall Street, corporate interest and the common good.  

Part 2 looks at how the 99 compare to the rest of the world.}

While college education entrenches our family within the middle class, working in camping ministry positions us firmly along the lower rungs of the American economic ladder.

Those degrees are important; we could "climb our way up," although that is hardly a given in this economic climate.  Our relative simple living is a choice, and I don't pretend to know what it's like to be low-wage workers, even if our finances look similar.

One of the biggest distinctions, of course, is that our housing is provided.  Although we have little cash to spare for extras, we never scramble to afford rent or heat.  Our needs are met and many of our wants, too, even when the checking account balance dips and we're counting the hours until direct deposit.

Although our family's earnings are modest according to American standards, globally we are among the richest.  We all are.   

Anyone earning more that $11,456 annually is among the richest 16% in the world.  (Compassion)

One billion people worldwide live in extreme poverty:  less than $1.25 a day. (Bread for the World)

Three billion people--half the earth--live on less than $2.50 a day.  (World Bank)

Eighty percent of the world has less than $10 a day to meet their basic needs.  (World Bank)

925 million people experience hunger on a daily basis.  (World Vision)

In 2007, an estimated 9.2 million children worldwide under the age of five died from largely preventable causes, including malnutrition and lack of access to safe water.  (Unicef)

The American economy is in rough shape, people at home are hurting and voices argue loudly that we should "take care of our own" first.  Why should Americans care about the global poor?

Firstly, of course, we are taking about people:  children and families not faceless statistics.  In a time of such global affluence, it is unconscionable that any should die of hunger.  Extreme poverty is no longer inevitable, and if we are Christians, we know that our salvation will be judged by how we treat "the least of these." 

{image source}

Secondly, we aren't as generous as we'd like to think.  Most Americans grossly overestimate the amount we spend on international aid.  Poverty-focused development assistance accounted for just 0.6 percent of the entire U.S. budget in fiscal year 2010  (Bread for the World).

Thirdly, reducing global poverty isn't merely a humanitarian goal:  it will make the world safer and more stable.  "For every 5 percent drop in income growth in a developing country, the likelihood of violent conflict or war within the next year increases by 10 percent"  (Bread for the World.)

The destinies of the "haves" are intrinsically linked to the fates of the "have-nothing-at-alls."  If we didn't know this already, it became all too clear on September 11, 2001.  The perpetrators of 9/11 might have been wealthy Saudis, but it was in the collapsed, poverty-stricken slums of Afghanistan that they found succor and sanctuary.  Africa is not the front line in the war against terror but it soon could be.

"The war against terror is bound up in the war against poverty."  Who said that?  Not me.  Not some beatnik peace group.  Secretary of State Colin Powell.  When a military man starts talking like that perhaps we should listen.  In tense, nervous times isn't it cheaper--and smarter--to make friends out of potential enemies than to defend yourself against them?  (Bono)

If we work toward the Millennium Development Goals and increase international poverty-focused development aid to the 0.7 giving target set by the U.N. and ratified repeatedly by the U.S., extreme poverty could be alleviated within our generation.  (Jeffrey Sachs, The End of Poverty)  That is good news!  Ending extreme poverty is within our reach--if we have the will to see it through.

Our governments have key roles to play, but what about ordinary citizens?  What can one individual or family do make a difference?  Global problems are vast and it is easy to become overwhelmed.

Source: live58.org via Kelley on Pinterest

The truth is that many lives and communities are in better shape today than they were yesterday because progress is being made toward eradicating extreme poverty.  We do have power to enact meaningful, life-giving change:

Engage decision makers and your community to alleviate hunger.

Fund a microloan to encourage economic enterprise and self-sufficiency.

Give gifts this Christmas that make a lasting difference.

Sponsor a child--or 10!  Compassion International, World Vision.

Perhaps one of the biggest ways that we can make a difference is through changing our consumer habits.  I'm no expert, and our family is just beginning to take baby steps, but I'll tackle some of those ideas in in Part 3, a theology of enough.



Follow the Compassion bloggers to Ecuador this week and see how child sponsorship makes tangible differences in lives for the Kingdom of God, on earth as it is in heaven.





{first image source}

This is second in a series about the intersection of 
faith, justice, consumerism and poverty. 

i am the 99 {part 1} 

i am the 1. {part 2} 

a theology of enough {part 3} 

Buy Less, Live More | 6 Practical Ways to Make A Difference With Your Dollar {part 4}
have yourself a mary little christmas {part 5}

beside quiet waters

i stared longingly at the website:  private rooms and home-cooked meals.  stations of the cross.  liturgy of the hours.  flower gardens and walking paths.  the eucharist.  the quiet.

the idea of a silent retreat when dylan weaned was the place my cluttered mind returned to, like a moth to the flame.

silence.

the very syllables pregnant with promise, but so was i--seven months along and hardly suited for a single bed not mine.

three became four and silence proved more elusive still.

*****

i'd not been away by myself since before i had kids.

i'd not been on a retreat that i hadn't planned since i was a kid.

this long weekend last was a gift.  a blogging conference was hardly a quiet retreat, but my soul had room to breathe.


*****

upon returning, i described my time to a friend, sharing how good it was to be with women whose words i am so encouraged by.

cyber friends?  she asked; smile wide, eyes mirthful.

two words never sounded so lame, but having shared cars, meals, hearts, beds, prayer and hugs, i call them real friends now.

{this would be a great place to insert cute photos. or admit that i didn't take any.}

it was good to be among grown-ups.  believers.  writers.  the ever-lovely hyacynth and melissa picked me up in their chevy. (michelle joined us for the trip back).  hyacynth is every bit as kind-hearted in person as on paper.  we roomed with generous stacy of delicious homemade lip balm, sugar scrubs and lotion bars for all and erika of the tattoo sprawled 'cross her tiny back--the same tree atop my blog header, better for its glorious roots.  i've never been one for ink, but i was as smitten with it as the gracious woman who wore it.

other highlights included wine and laughter with sweet friends kamille, jess, donna and crew of beautiful lively writers.  joyful meals and baby cuddles with the effervescent lenae (and quinn.)  a late night airport run with ashleigh, joy and elizabeth esther.  hearing more of gen's hard and healing story.

our time was blessed--and that's not even counting solid sessions, keynotes or workshops.

sometimes, a heart needs to hear its own rhythm to remember what makes it beat.

a giant thank you to Ancient Minerals for sponsoring my trip.  talking with women at the Relevant conference about natural health was another highlight.  it was especially meaningful to hear from moms already using magnesium to manage autism and asthma in their kids.  working with Ancient Minerals has been a pleasure from start to finish, and i am thankful for the opportunity to promote a family business so committed to preventative health.

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